


Liberty and Justice

by theramblinrose



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl, F/M, MC - Freeform, Mandrea, Motorcycle club, Multi, biker fic, finding your own family, friends are family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 139,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theramblinrose/pseuds/theramblinrose
Summary: Caryl, AU.  Mandrea is a secondary ship.  When Carol ends up in the small town of Liberty with her daughter, she finds herself among a crowd of people that seem like they might not be the most desirable bunch.  As an outsider herself, she soon discovers that she can’t judge a book by its cover and sometimes the most unlikely of people can become the closest family.    Rated for future chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

AN: For the time being, this is a one-shot. However, it’s also the start of the AU I’ll be starting as soon as I wrap up another story that won’t last much longer. 

I own nothing from the Walking Dead. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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The rain had started suddenly and had come with such a vengeance that Carol could almost convince herself that it was some kind of precursor to another Great Flood of biblical proportions. It was coming down in a solid sheet that blurred Carol’s view through the windshield enough that she was starting to lose the ability to distinguish the road from anything else in her surroundings. It washed across the road in hard waves and from time to time it sent the car surging off in one direction or another toward the ditches that lined either side of the back country highway. The tires on the old station wagon were bad and they’d been bad for half a decade. They were probably bald. Carol would be surprised if there was any tread left on them at all. 

As far as safe and reliable vehicles went, the station wagon was neither. It certainly wouldn’t have been Carol’s first choice for neither a long road trip nor to use as a getaway car, but it was what she had. Right now it would have to do.

The car had belonged to an old man that once lived three or four houses down from the place that Carol had called home for a decade. He’d died and his wife had kept the car in the garage, but she’d never bothered renewing its tags. It was a junker and she was waiting for someone to come along and offer to haul it down to the junkyard for the few dollars that she might get for it in trade.

Carol had offered her three hundred dollars in folded bills for the car and she’d requested that the price pay for her silence on the matter as well. The woman had accepted and Carol had taken the keys to the old, brown station wagon. A green metal clover hung from the keys and Carol was hoping there was still a bit of good, old-fashioned Irish luck in the trinket because she was going to need all of it that she could get. 

Without tags, Carol knew that she was travelling on borrowed time. Eventually her luck would run out. The cops would stop her and she’d have to offer them some sort of explanation. She didn’t know how that would play out. She didn’t know if they’d help her or if, in the name of pretending to help her, they’d just deliver her back to the hell she’d finally escaped. She hadn’t had the best luck with cops in her life. They meant well enough, and she was sure of that, but they just didn’t seem able to keep up with their promises. 

Carol was tired of relying on their promises, too. 

This time, she was doing this herself. And she’d drive the ratty old car until some cop stopped her or the bald tires rolled off—she wasn’t sure which would come first, though. Not at the rate she was going. 

When the car jerked, sometimes it woke Sophia and the small girl stirred around in the backseat. She offered a quiet question to her mother each time the rough ride woke her. 

“Is everything OK? Where are we? What’s happening?”

To soothe over her daughter’s concerns, Carol sang every time the car jerked one way or another. She sang even though she felt like her throat was seizing up. She sang all the songs that Sophia liked most when she was going to sleep, even though those songs turned out to be more a tribute to the legacy of Neil Diamond than they were a long list of traditional lullabies. 

The further that Carol got from where they started, though, the looser her throat felt. Her chest, too, lost some of its tightness. Even though she was white-knuckling the steering wheel, her heart pounding over the fact that they might go into a ditch at any moment, her anxiety seemed to be lessening instead of building. 

They were fine and they were going to be fine. They were going on an adventure. It was going to be wonderful. 

Carol didn’t have a map because she didn’t care where they were going. She didn’t have a phone because she’d have nobody to call. She didn’t have anything but a bag of Sophia’s things and one of her own. It was all she could carry as she’d slipped down the backyard grass behind the houses in her neighborhood, Sophia clinging to the back of her pants as she walked along with her, just before the sun had gone down. 

Ed hadn’t been gone half an hour when Carol took the chance to run with her daughter, but she wasn’t wasting anymore time. She’d already wasted enough.

Carol was as physically lost as she’d ever been, but that was her intention all along. She was ready to trade knowing her physical location in order to finally find herself. The farther away she was from everything she’d ever known before, the better off she was. The better off Sophia was, too, and Carol knew it. 

When the water on the road snatched the car again, Sophia stirred once more in the backseat. 

“What was that?” Sophia asked, her voice heavy with sleep. 

“You’re still all buckled up, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Carol asked. 

“Yes, Mama,” Sophia responded. 

“Good,” Carol said smiling to herself. “Good—it’s just some water on the road. Go back to sleep.”

“Where are we?” Sophia asked.

“We’re going on an adventure,” Carol said. 

“Are we almost there?” Sophia asked.

Carol laughed to herself. 

“We’re just getting started, sweetheart,” Carol said. “Go back to sleep.”

“Aren’t you gonna sleep, Mama?” Sophia asked.

“When we get where we’re going, Sophia,” Carol said, “I’m going to sleep. And—I’m going to sleep as good as I’ve ever slept before.” 

“Where are we going?” Sophia asked.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Carol answered honestly. “But I’ll know when we get there.” 

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Luckily the ditch that the car had finally decided to sink itself into hadn’t been very deep and the impact of the somewhat-crash hadn’t been very hard. Carol had managed to get out of the car and wade around in knee deep water for a while during her attempts to get Sophia safely out of the backseat. 

She’d left their bags. She’d left the car. All she’d taken was her daughter and the key with the green metal clover. 

It was still pouring rain in heavy sheets and Carol had no idea where they were any better than she had when she’d been watching the road go past her through the windshield. The car seemed to have chosen a location to finally slide off the road where there appeared to be no population to speak of. Half carrying Sophia and half dragging her miserable daughter along with her, Carol made her way down the highway in the rain and wondered exactly what they were going to do.

She had maybe five hundred dollars in her pocket, but that was it. If she didn’t want to get back in touch with Ed, she was going to have to survive on that until she was able to find somewhere to get a job. She had the old station wagon and the few items they’d tucked in there, but it wasn’t coming out of the ditch until the rain stopped at the very least. 

All Carol really had was her daughter and the determination to keep going, no matter how much it seemed like something in the universe was trying to make her turn around and go back. 

She’d gone back too many times before. There was only forward now.

As they trudged along, Carol did her best to make Sophia believe that this was all part of her plan. This was all part of the adventure. Wasn’t it so much fun that they were soaking wet and walking down what seemed like an abandoned highway in the middle of the night? Wasn’t Sophia having a great time? 

Every place they passed that proved that there was a population of people inhabiting the area was dark. The windows of houses were dark and the houses were quiet as people slept. The few small businesses that seemed to dot the landscape were closed and dark. 

There was nothing open and Carol hadn’t even seen a single motel for as long as she could recall. She was beginning to wonder if her best bet was turning back with her daughter and passing the night simply sleeping in the station wagon in the ditch. In this ghost town, it seemed like there was nothing and nobody there that would bother them except, perhaps, the spirits of a few long-forgotten people who hadn’t come out of accidents as lucky as Carol and Sophia had come out of their trip into the muddy ditch.

Before Carol could make up her mind to turn back, though, she saw something that got her hopes up. She saw the bright glow above the tree line that told her that somewhere, not too far away, there were electric lights burning. Somewhere, not too far away, someone existed and they were awake. 

The excitement of the lights gave Carol a renewed strength and she carried Sophia the last leg of the journey despite the fact that her feet were killing her. 

Just off the highway and a little tucked back into a cleared patch of woods, there was a bar. Carol’s shoes crunched on the soaked gravel as she approached it. 

There was nobody outside the bar, but Carol could hear the din of people inside even over the pouring sound of the rain as it splattered on the ground around her. The glowing sign on the bar advertised the name of the place as The Chambers. Outside of the bar and all lined up, there was a row of motorcycles. On the other side of the parking lot there were a few other vehicles, but the motorcycles far outweighed the number of vehicles that weren’t bikes.

Carol wasn’t certain that The Chambers was the best place to take her five year old daughter, but she was pretty sure that it was the only place that was open at that hour. 

At the very least, there might be someone there that would be kind enough to direct her to a motel. 

She’d simply have to pray for the kindness of strangers and the benevolence of possibly a quite unsavory crowd.

As soon as Carol pushed open the heavy door of the bar and stepped inside with Sophia slowly sliding down her hip, the girl was doing her best to sleep against Carol’s shoulder, she had the strange desire to shake off the water like a dog. Soaked didn’t begin to cover how wet she was. There was nothing dry on her body and she was somewhat conscious of the fact that she and her daughter both were dripping a steady stream of water onto the wooden floor.

For a moment, nobody in the bar seemed to notice her arrival at all. Despite the fact that she was soaking wet and holding a five year old, nobody noticed her standing there. It was as though she were invisible.

Everyone inside the bar was drinking and talking. Most of the men in the bar wore leather jackets or vests with some sort of emblem on the back that looked like the scales of justice. The few women who were in the bar were entertaining the men in a variety of ways, but none of them seemed to notice Carol any more than anyone else. 

Nobody might have noticed her presence at all, in fact, if Sophia hadn’t come out of her half-sleeping state to ask Carol again about their situation.

“Where are we?” Sophia asked.

Her daughter’s voice drew the attention of nearly everyone in there. Even though Sophia hadn’t spoken very loudly, it appeared that her voice had carried over the sound of the music that was playing and the happy conversations that were taking place. 

At once, everyone in the bar turned and stared at Carol. She was suddenly aware that she was an outsider in a number of ways. Her first instinct was to turn around and simply leave the bar, but she’d come too far for that and there was nowhere to go outside except back into the rain and darkness. 

Instead, Carol simply shifted her daughter’s weight and hoisted her higher on her hip to get a better hold on the child.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Carol said softly to Sophia. “Be quiet. Go to sleep. It’s OK.” She started forward, making her way toward the bar where she hoped an employee might be able to help her. Aware of the attention that she had drawn, now, Carol stared straight ahead and pretended that she was blind to the presence of everyone there. As she closed in on the bar, she looked for an employee. If there was one there, though, they weren’t behind the bar and their manner of dress didn’t exactly make them stand out.

Sitting on a stool at the bar, reclining somewhat on the wooden surface in front of him, sat one of the men who was wearing one of the leather vests. Of the men that she’d passed in her silent and solitary parade from the door, the man sitting on the stool looked to be maybe the most harmless. He watched Carol, the same as the others did, but maybe there was something different in his eyes.

Maybe Carol was just imagining it. 

Still, Carol turned to address the man and he beat her to it.

“Somethin’ we can help you with?” He asked. 

“I hope so,” Carol said. “Where are we?” 

The man laughed to himself like he doubted the sincerity of Carol’s question. She raised her eyebrows at him and he swallowed down his laughter. 

“This here’s the Chambers,” he said.

“The town?” Carol asked.

“No,” he said. “It’s Liberty. Well—just outside of it.” 

“Georgia?” Carol asked.

He nodded his head. 

“Where were you tryin’ to be?” He asked. “Because this is the last place on Earth you’d wanna be if you didn’t have to be. Small ass town like this? There ain’t nobody that’s tryin’ to be in Liberty if they weren’t already here.” 

Carol smiled at him. 

“Then this is exactly where I’m trying to be,” Carol said. “Somewhere where nobody would ever want to be. Somewhere they’d never think to look.” 

The man laughed to himself.

“It the cops you runnin’ from?” He asked. “Or somebody else?” 

“Would you like it if I asked you that question?” Carol asked.

The man hummed. He licked his lips and brought the cigarette he was smoking back to his lips to take a drag from it. 

“Askin’ your name any better?” He asked. “Mine’s Daryl—save you the time in askin’ me back.” 

Carol swallowed. 

“Carol,” she said. “This is Sophia.” 

“You got a last name?” The man asked.

“Do you?” Carol asked.

He laughed to himself. 

“Well, Carol with no last name,” he said, “welcome to Liberty. Let me see what I can do about gettin’ you a couple of towels.” 

Daryl got up from his stool and walked away from Carol. He disappeared around the bar and into the back where Carol couldn’t see him any longer. She stood there, swaying her body and rocking Sophia, and stared straight ahead so as to not invite conversation from anyone who might be watching her. When Daryl reappeared, he was carrying some white towels that he held up to show her before he passed them over. 

“Just bath towels,” he said. “But they’ll dry as good as anything else. You got a car? Broke down somewhere?” 

“Ran off in a ditch,” Carol said. “Maybe four or five miles down the highway. I was looking for a motel.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You won’t find one of them for another forty or fifty miles,” Daryl said. “We had one, but it’s been closed down a while. They said it was overrun with rats the size of German Shepherds.” 

Carol’s stomach sunk.

“Then where do people stay?” Carol asked.

“Told you,” Daryl responded, “this just ain’t the place that nobody comes to stay. You were either born here or—most the time? Liberty’s just somethin’ you see in the rearview mirror. It ain’t a bad town, don’t get me wrong. You ain’t gonna get hurt or nothin’ just by bein’ here. It’s just that—it don’t got a lot to offer.” 

“The only thing I wish it offered right now is a motel,” Carol said. 

Daryl sucked his teeth and nodded his head. 

“Go on around the bar there,” Daryl said. “There’s a space back there where you can dry up a little. I’ll call somebody. Get you a change of clothes—maybe somethin’ she can wear in the meantime. Find you a place for the night and I got somebody that can get your car outta that ditch in the morning. Owes me a couple favors anyway.” 

Carol shook her head at him.

“That’s nice of you,” she said, “but we can’t accept charity.” 

He shook his head back at her. 

“Not charity,” he said. “It’s help. And—that’s kinda what we do here. Besides—looks to me like you’re in a position where you can’t exactly not accept it.” 

Carol frowned at him. It was true. She was in a position where she had to accept the help offered to her, even if she didn’t want to feel indebted to anyone. Still, she got the feeling that the man wasn’t exactly trying to hold her in debt.

“I don’t know how I’m going to pay you back,” Carol said. “Or when I’ll be able to.” 

Daryl shook his head.

“You don’t owe me nothin’,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to know you was out there in this with her. It’s a heavy rain. Came up on us pretty sudden. Caught us all by surprise. Go get dried off. Let me make a couple calls. We’ll get you a place for the night. Get your car tomorrow. You don’t owe me or nobody nothin’. You got my word on that, for what it’s worth. Tomorrow you can be on your way to wherever you’re goin’. ” 

Carol smiled at him. She rested the dry towels over the shoulder that Sophia wasn’t sleeping against and shifted the weight of her daughter once more as the girl started to slide down her hip again. 

“I think I might be there,” she said. “Where I’m going. We might just—stick around. See what Liberty has to offer us.” 

Daryl smiled back, the corner of his mouth barely turning up. He nodded his head slightly.

“If you don’t mind me sayin’,” Daryl said, “I hope you do.”


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I told you I’d be back when I finished the other story.

Thank you for letting me know you were excited about the start of this one! I hope you enjoy it as we go along! 

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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Putting herself and her daughter into a strange woman’s car had probably not been the smartest thing that Carol had ever done, but she had very few options at the moment and she had to trust that these people weren’t out to kill her. In fact, she was pretty sure that they couldn’t do her much more harm than the man she’d married—her daughter’s own father—and they had lived with him. 

The man, Daryl, had made a phone call and, while they’d waited, he’d offered Carol and Sophia both a burger to eat that was cooked by one of the people who worked at the bar. Though it wasn’t the most nutritious meal that Carol might have fed her daughter, it was warm, it was filling, and it was delicious. Besides that, having her stomach full had simply made Sophia even more tired and complacent to simply sit and wait to see what would happen. They’d barely finished eating by the time the blonde had come walking through the door carrying a duffle bag with clothes for Carol and a t-shirt that worked as temporary dress for Sophia. 

Carol hadn’t missed the way that everyone in the bar had reacted to the blonde’s arrival, either. Clearly she had a reputation around there because everyone seemed to know her well. They’d practically parted like the Red Sea when she’d come through the door and everyone that had greeted her while she walked had practically treated her like royalty. 

Andrea. The woman’s name was Andrea. 

As far as Carol knew, Andrea was like Cher. She had no last name. But, then again, Carol hadn’t exactly shared her last name either. 

Andrea had waited for Carol to change and to get Sophia changed. Then she’d offered Carol a ride and promised her that they could crash at her place that night. 

Carol had felt it was an offer she couldn’t refuse. After all, she had nowhere else to go, the nearest motel was apparently fifty miles away, and her only means of transportation was drowning in a ditch on the side of the highway.

When they pulled up at the house, it was dark except for one floodlight just above the door. The rain was still coming down in sheets and Andrea told Carol to stay in the car while she got the door unlocked and turned on a few lights, but Carol hadn’t listened to her. By the time she got Sophia out of the car and closed the door behind her, Andrea was already standing inside the little house and was holding open the screened door.

“Come on!” Andrea called. “Before you get soaked again!” 

Carol darted through the water and into the house. Sophia was so desperate to sleep that she barely woke through any of it, though she did whine some as Carol stepped into the house, and she lifted her head off of Carol’s shoulder. 

“Where are we?” Sophia asked. 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“We’re at—we’re at Andrea’s house,” Carol said. “We’re going to spend the night here, sweetheart. I’m going to put you down, OK? Let you get some sleep in the bed?” 

Carol rubbed her daughter’s back. 

“I’m sorry—do you have another shirt she can wear?” Carol asked. “This one’s already wet again. I hate to be such a bother.”

Andrea laughed and shook her head. 

“I’ve got plenty of clothes,” Andrea said. “Come on—I’ll show you the room. It’s not the Beverly Wilshire, but I’m a pretty clean housekeeper. The sheets are clean. I washed them two days ago and nobody’s slept in there since.” 

She led Carol to a room, opened the door, leaned in and turned on the light switch. She waved her hand to wave Carol inside.

“Bed’s pretty big too,” Andrea added. 

“I really hate to impose,” Carol said. 

“You’re not,” Andrea said. “It’s a guest room. That’s what it’s for. Besides—I like it when people crash here. I’ll get you something for her to wear to bed. Something else for you too. When you get her settled in, you oughta come out here. Have a drink or somethin’? Unless you’re too tired.”

Carol was exhausted, but she also didn’t want to turn down the offer of her very generous hostess, especially not when the woman seemed to really want her to take her up on the drink. Carol forced the best smile she could.

“No—no—I mean, I’d love the drink. I’m not too tired,” Carol said. 

Andrea smiled at her. 

“Great,” she said. “I’ll bring you some more clothes. Then I can change into something dry myself.”

Carol nodded her head, shifted Sophia’s weight, and waited in the doorway of the little room for Andrea’s return from what was, apparently, her bedroom. She thanked Andrea once more for the clothes and stepped into the little room. She eased Sophia down onto her feet, waking her by telling her that she needed to stand up a moment and help Carol get her clothes changed. 

“Where are we?” Sophia asked, her eyes half closed. She stared at Carol through slits.

“We’re at Andrea’s house, sweetheart,” Carol said.

“Who’s Andrea?” Sophia asked. 

Carol laughed to herself. 

She could be honest with Sophia. She could tell her that she had no idea who Andrea was and she had no idea why the woman—who she’d never met before in her life—was being so nice and so welcoming to her. But Sophia was five. And part of being five meant that, sometimes, Carol didn’t want her to know the truth. Not all of it. Part of being five, Carol thought, was being able to believe in the good in world without questioning it through the screen of past experiences.

“Andrea is a friend,” Carol said. “Something like a—fairy godmother.” 

Sophia’s eyes opened wide. 

“Like Cinderella?” Sophia asked. 

“Something like that,” Carol said. 

“Except—instead of a pumpkin carriage? She drove us here in a Toyota,” Carol said. “And—instead of a castle? She’s giving us this room for the night.” 

“The fairy godmother didn’t give Cinderella a castle,” Sophia informed Carol. 

“What matters, Sophia, is that she’s being very nice to us,” Carol said. “She’s being very kind. So—just make sure you’re kind to her too, OK? And—you thank her. Can you do that for me in the morning?” 

Sophia nodded her head. 

“How long are we going to stay with her?” Sophia asked.

“I don’t know,” Carol admitted. “Come on, sweetheart. Get into bed. Get some sleep. I’ll tuck you in.” 

Carol swallowed and pulled back the cover on the bed so that Sophia could slip in and get comfortable. The bed was clean and it was plenty big enough for the two of them. What was even better was that the bed was one where they were going to be able to sleep without any worry of Ed. He had no idea where they were. He wouldn’t find them here. 

For the first time in years, Carol would be able to sleep without worrying at all about her husband.

Maybe she should have been worried that they were sleeping in a stranger’s home, but she wasn’t concerned at all. There was very little in life that she truly feared, she discovered, with Ed gone.

And she simply had a hunch that Andrea, although perhaps not the ideal role model for her five year old daughter, wasn’t going to be the type to bring them any harm.

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When Carol stepped out of the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her, she quickly found Andrea standing in her kitchen. Andrea turned around when she heard Carol and smiled at her. She held up a bottle of wine.

“Are you a wine person, a beer person, or a liquor person?” Andrea asked.

“Honestly?” Carol responded. “Neither.”

“You don’t drink?” Andrea asked.

“Not often,” Carol said. “It’s not always a good idea to drink, you know? It’s not a good idea to let your guard down.” Andrea’s smile faded a little and she nodded. Carol’s stomach twisted and she immediately wondered if she’d said too much. She’d done her best to cover Ed’s latest handiwork on her face, but a quick glance in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door had shown her that the rain had washed off all her makeup. There was no need pretending that the bruises weren’t there and that they weren’t visible. Still, maybe that was the sort of thing that Andrea didn’t want to talk about. “I’d love a glass of wine, though,” Carol said. “Unless—I’ve got some reason to keep my guard up.” 

Andrea’s smile returned.

“I was going to say—I’ve got a full liquor cabinet but I don’t drink the hard stuff all that often. And the beer I’ve got is really piss beer. It isn’t mine. It’s like—this hodgepodge collection of the shit that people have left here. The wine, though? This one’s good. It’s almost like dessert,” Andrea said.

Carol nodded.

“Sounds perfect,” she declared.

Andrea poured them both a glass of wine and then she handed one of the glasses to Carol before she gestured toward the couch.

“Couch OK or...do you prefer the table?” Andrea asked.

“The couch is perfect,” Carol said. 

Andrea laughed to herself.

“You can tone down your enthusiasm,” Andrea said. “Not everything has to be perfect. And—if you want to? You can calm down. Breathe. There’s no need to be worried. I’m not an axe murderer. Unless it makes you nervous that I told you that I’m not an axe murderer.” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“I didn’t think you were,” Carol said.

“Really?” Andrea asked. “Because you’re watching me like I’m going to shed my skin.” She settled down on the couch next to Carol. 

“Actually—since I saw you at the bar, it almost looks like you did shed your skin,” Carol said. “If you don’t mind my saying—you look a lot different than you did there.” 

“I changed my clothes,” Andrea said. “I washed off what was left of my makeup. My hair’s a little bit of a mess thanks to the rain. But those are just the tricks of the trade that every woman knows, right? The ways to transform yourself into something else. At least one of the personalities that you have to assume to get by in the world. You’ve got those, right? Carol with no last name.” 

Carol swallowed and tasted the chilled wine that she’d been given. 

“I’ve got those,” Carol agreed. “Maybe I’m the one that’s hoping to shed my skin.” 

“Maybe you will,” Andrea said. “I know it’s none of my business so—you can just tell me it isn’t, but...crazy ex-boyfriend?” 

“Crazy husband,” Carol said. 

“Soon-to-be ex-husband?” Andrea asked. 

Carol swallowed. She nodded her head. 

“Honestly? There’s very little I’d love more than to be rid of him,” Carol said. “But—I don’t even know where to begin. I honestly don’t know even where to start. I feel like—sometimes, I feel like he’s gotten into my head.” 

Andrea laughed to herself. 

“That’s what most of them do,” Andrea said. “Still—looks to me like you’ve started. You took the first step. You’re out. You’re gone. He’s not here.”

Carol nodded her head and smiled to herself. 

“He’s not here,” Carol agreed. “But I don’t know where I go from here.” 

“You don’t have to decide that tonight,” Andrea said. “In the morning, Axel will get your car out the ditch and haul it over here—assuming it runs.”

“If it doesn’t?” Carol asked.

Andrea shrugged her shoulders.

“He’ll haul it down to the shop and they’ll get it running,” Andrea said. “Then I’ll drive you over there when it’s ready. You can decide where you’re going then. Or maybe just decide on the road.” 

“What if I wanted to stay here?” Carol asked. “In Liberty.” 

“There’s nothing in Liberty,” Andrea said. “Not really. Mostly the only people who stay in Liberty are the people who were born here.”

Carol laughed to herself. 

“That’s what Daryl said,” Carol said. “At the bar.” 

“He’s right,” Andrea said. “Liberty—it’s the kind of place that keeps its hold on you. If you’re born here? You never get out of Liberty. If you’re one of the few that does break loose? You never come back for fear you’ll just sort of sink back down into it again. Anyone who comes here and stays more than a couple of days just seems to get stuck. It’s like the whole town is covered in molasses. Your feet stick right to the ground if you stand still too long.” 

“What about you?” Carol asked.

“I was born here,” Andrea said. “And by the time I had the money or the balls to get out of here, Liberty already had her hooks in me.” 

“Is it such a bad town?” Carol asked.

“It’s a town like any other, I guess,” Andrea said. “I mean—it’s a small town. We’ve got more festivals and parades than any town this size has any business having. We’ve got just about anything you want as long as you’re not asking for too much. It’s just a small town.” 

“Then what’s wrong with it?” Carol asked. 

“It’s just a nothing little town,” Andrea said. “That’s all. And it’s overflowing with people who are so miserable with their own lives that they can’t help trying to make other people miserable. Misery enjoys company, I guess.” 

“That’s everywhere,” Carol said. “At least I think that’s everywhere.” 

“I’m just warning you,” Andrea said, “that if you stay too long, you’ll get stuck.” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“It might be a risk I’m willing to take,” Carol said. “I’m sure I’ve been stuck in worst places before.”

“Well,” Andrea said, draining her glass of wine, “you don’t have to decide that tonight, either. Depending on what Axel finds when he pulls your car out tomorrow, you might be stuck here even if you don’t want to be. At least for a couple of days.” 

Andrea stood up, clearly taking her glass back to the kitchen. Carol hadn’t drank her wine as quickly as Andrea, so she waited a moment to see if Andrea would refill her glass to have another. When she didn’t, Carol got up and drank down the contents of her own glass quickly. Apparently it was time to call it a night, and she didn’t want to make Andrea stay up any later than she’d intended. Not when she was a guest in her home. 

“Andrea—I have to admit that I’m not sure I can pay Axel,” Carol said. “I mean—for the tow, maybe. But if there’s anything wrong with the car? I just don’t have that much on me right now and I can’t really get in touch with my husband. I don’t want to.” 

Andrea shook her head. She held her had up to Carol to stop her explanation in its tracks.

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Andrea said. “We’ll talk about it all in the morning. But you just—sleep well tonight. Don’t worry about it. You won’t owe Axel a thing.” 

“Why?” Carol asked. “Who is he?” 

Andrea laughed to herself. 

“He’s one of the Judges,” Andrea said. 

“Your town Judge also drives your local tow truck?” Carol asked with a laugh. Andrea echoed her humor. She shook her head.

“The Judges,” Andrea said. “Don’t worry about it. You won’t owe him anything. He’s practically family. He’s part of the club.” 

“The club?” Carol asked.

“The Judges,” Andrea said. “The MC.” 

“MC?” Carol asked.

“Motorcycle club,” Andrea said. “Go get some rest, Carol. I put a fresh toothbrush out for you and one for Sophia on the bathroom sink. I always keep them around for unexpected company. The bathroom’s right through there. I’ll see you in the morning and, when you’re not so tired, you can figure out what you want to do.” 

Carol shook her head at the blonde.

“I can’t pay you back for being so nice to me,” Carol said. 

“Good,” Andrea said. “Because I wouldn’t let you anyway. Welcome to Liberty. Front door’s locked. The batteries in the smoke alarm are new. The phone hanging by the fridge is a landline that still works if you need it. Get some sleep. There’s nothing left to worry about. Knock on my bedroom door if you need anything.”

Carol laughed to herself. She nodded at Andrea.

“Thank you,” Carol said. “Goodnight, Andrea. I still don’t know your last name, you know?” 

Andrea winked at Carol.

“And I still don’t know yours,” Andrea said. “Goodnight, Carol.”


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Hi everyone! I want to thank you all for letting me know that you’re excited about this story. I hope that you continue to enjoy. 

This is going to be somewhat of a slow burn. Some of the characters might be a little OOC for the show to fit the universe that I have envisioned, but I’ll try to keep them as in-character as possible. Some of the biggest differences, for instance, might be that they’re, perhaps, a little bolder and, in particular, Daryl might be a little “chattier” than he has been lately on the show. 

At any rate, I hope you enjoy! I’m taking my time with this one just to enjoy it myself. I hope you enjoy it too! 

Let me know what you think! 

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“I’m gone half a damn day an’ I come home to find out you cost me a good piece of ass,” Merle said, laughing to himself. 

“Who else was I gonna send her home with?” Daryl asked. “Had to think fast. Andrea was the first that come to mind that I figured would take her for a night.”

He could tell his brother wasn’t really pissed off about coming home to find out that Andrea had a house guest and, therefore, wasn’t even entertaining his invitation to spend the night. Merle was set on giving Daryl hell, though, every chance he got. 

Merle hummed at Daryl’s explanation and got up from the table to rummage absentmindedly through the refrigerator as though he hadn’t just gone through its contents moments before. 

“You lookin’ for somethin’ in particular in there, Merle?” Daryl asked. “Or you just like to see if the light still comes on every time you open the door?” 

“Where’s that damn pepperoni shit that was in here?” Merle asked.

“Pepperoni?” Daryl asked. 

“The damn—that big damn pepperoni stick,” Merle said, attempting to illustrate what he was looking for with his hands. 

Daryl laughed to himself. It looked like Merle was searching out a dick among the shelves of their refrigerator, but Daryl knew what he was really after. 

“You mean that summer sausage?” Daryl asked.

“I don’t care when the hell it was made, brother,” Merle mused, looking more like he was having a discussion with the carton of orange juice than he was with Daryl. 

“Got eat,” Daryl said. Merle grunted his discontent at hearing the news. 

“What about them egg rolls that was in here?” Merle asked. “From the China Palace?”

“Andrea eat ‘em,” Daryl said. 

“The fuckin’ leftovers from them pork chops she made?” Merle asked. 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“Think it was your ass that eat them,” Daryl said. 

“Got fuckin’ eggs—that’s all the hell we got,” Merle said, pulling out the carton of eggs. He opened it and looked mournfully at the eggs that were left there. “Two of ‘em. Lil’ bitty damn things, too. You want one?” 

Daryl shook his head. 

“I’m good,” he said. “But hand me another beer while you in there.” 

Merle handed Daryl the requested beer before he set about making himself some eggs at the stove. 

“Damn poor sight to think I work seven damn days a week an’ come home to shit-else to eat but some eggs,” Merle grumbled. 

Daryl laughed to himself and hummed at his brother.

“I’ll buy some groceries tomorrow,” Daryl said. “Send Andrea to get some. Hell, Merle, if you really that concerned about it, you could take your turn doing some of the shoppin’ around here. Maybe fold a damn shirt every now and again.” 

“Call up that Oriental prospect,” Merle said. “Wake his ass up. Tell him—we only got eggs. Tell him we want steak. And potatoes. Big bakin’ potatoes. Tell him to bring it by.” 

Merle laughed to himself. Daryl knew that his brother knew that he wasn’t going to call that poor asshole and tell him to bring them food, but Merle loved harassing a prospect almost as much as he loved getting a good piece of ass. Unfortunately for Merle, he wasn’t actually going to get to enjoy either of those simple pleasures tonight. 

“He’s gonna make it in,” Daryl said. “That prospect. And when he does? He’s gonna be a brother. You gotta stop callin’ his ass Oriental.”

“Everytime I say he’s Chinese or what-the-hell-ever, there’s always someone there to bite my head off about that too,” Merle said. “Might as well call him whatever I see fit if I’ma get bitched at one way or another.” 

“He ain’t Chinese either,” Daryl said. “Korean. Besides—you could call him Glenn. Or brother.” 

“Or prospect,” Merle said. “Because he ain’t no brother yet.” 

“Yeah—but you know he’s gonna make it,” Daryl said.

Daryl leaned back and stretched against the back of the chair. Slowly he heard some of the bones in his spine give way and pop the way that he wanted them to do. Merle rummaged around in a drawer for a moment and came up with a fork before he grabbed the ketchup and sat across from Daryl at the table to eat the eggs that would constitute his supper. 

“You eat yet, lil’ brother?” Merle asked.

“Had a burger,” Daryl said. “Down at the Chambers. When that woman was eatin’ so she wouldn’t feel outta place.” 

“Like she weren’t outta place ‘fore she started eatin’ that burger?” Merle asked.

Daryl sat up enough to reach his own lighter where it lay on the table some several inches away from him. Taking it into his fingers, he flicked it so that it spit out a flame. He let the flame die before he flicked it again. He repeated the action a few times before he noticed his brother watching him and reached for a cigarette so that he could use the lighter for its intended purpose. 

“You gonna kiss me or some shit?” Daryl asked. Merle hummed at him, his fork full of scrambled eggs waiting on permission to reach his mouth. “Starin’ at me like that.” 

“Was just—waitin’ for you to say something,” Merle said. “About how that woman was. About how she was fittin’ in at the Chambers right up until she had a burger so you had to eat one to help her blend in.” 

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

“She weren’t no more outta place than any other old lady that comes up in there,” Daryl said. “Or—some piece of strange, for that matter.” 

“Piece of strange alright,” Merle mused. “Where the hell she come from, anyway?” 

Daryl swallowed.

He had no idea where the woman had come from. She hadn’t offered that information and he could tell that she wasn’t anxious to talk about her past. She was almost skittish, so he hadn’t pressed her for anything more than what was absolutely necessary.

He wished he knew, though, at least a little something more about the woman. 

Daryl toyed with the lighter as it rested on the table in front of him. 

“Hell if I know,” Daryl said. “She ain’t wanted to talk about it. I didn’t push too much. Figure—Andrea might can get some shit out of her. Ya know? That woman to woman stuff. Get her talkin’ that way. The only thing we gotta know is what kinda car she was drivin’ and where she thinks she mighta lost it. That way Axel can pick it up in the morning.” 

“Bothers me a little that she ain’t wantin’ to talk,” Merle said. 

“Why do you care?” Daryl asked. “Not too many of us can say we don’t got somethin’ in our lives we’d rather not talk about.” 

“What I’m worried about is if there’s a body in the damn trunk of that car,” Merle said. “Some crazy ass shit like that. Last damn thing we wanna do is send Axel straight back to prison ‘cause he ain’t got no idea he’s bein’ set up to go an’ get a body.” 

Daryl laughed to himself and shook his head. 

“Weren’t no body,” Daryl said. “She don’t look the type to be a murderer.” 

“Neither do half the damn people that turn out to be psychotic killers, lil’ brother,” Merle said. “Watch out—don’t go underestimatin’ a woman just ‘cause you think she looks all delicate and shit. She’ll kill you and chop you up quicker’n shit.”

“There ain’t no body,” Daryl said, sticking to his gut instinct about the woman. 

“Drugs?” Merle asked.

Daryl shook his head. 

“She don’t look like no addict,” Daryl said. “She weren’t strung out on nothing. Wouldn’t even have a drink to steady her nerves. Had her kid with her. She ain’t got a body in that trunk an’ she ain’t got no load of drugs, neither.” Daryl shook his head, almost certain that he could read his brother’s mind by now. 

“It ain’t the cops she’s scared of,” Daryl said. 

“Who you think she’s scared of, then?” Merle asked.

“Her old man, I’d say,” Daryl said. Merle was watching him. Daryl nodded his head to let Merle know that he’d heard him right. “She was beat up. Her eye was blacked up pretty good. Busted lip that ain’t been healin’ more’n a day or so. That was all I saw right off, but I didn’t look too hard on account of—ya know. Not wantin’ to make her uncomfortable.” 

“She tell you it was her old man that done it?” Merle asked.

“I didn’t ask,” Daryl said. “She was so skittish I didn’t wanna do nothin’ that might make her run back out in that storm with that kid. I wanted her to sit her ass right there on that stool until Andrea got there.”

“You were pretty interested in her, weren’t you?” Merle asked.

Daryl swallowed. There was only a little bit of teasing in Merle’s voice. That was unusual for Merle, especially when it came to giving Daryl a hard time about a woman. He loved to harass Daryl about women. He did it every chance he got. He was as loud and as crass about it as he could possibly be. 

There was something that was at least a little unnerving about the fact that Merle almost sounded entirely sincere about his question. 

Daryl tasted his beer to wash down the strange feeling in his gut that the question gave him and he lit another cigarette. When Merle reached for the pack, Daryl slid it across the table.

“She’s alone with a kid,” Daryl said. “Showed up soakin’ wet at the Chambers with nothin’ but her kid an’ a set of keys. Got fresh bruises on her face an’ it just felt cut and dry. She was runnin’ from her old man. If I’da done somethin’ to scare her ass outta that bar, there’s no tellin’ what mighta happened, but there’s a good chance she’da gone crawlin’ back to him. Didn’t want that to happen, that’s all. She’s out. Wanted her to stay that way.”

“Just ‘cause she’s out, don’t mean she’ll stay that way,” Merle said. “Might not have shit to do with you, neither. You know that leavin’ don’t stick until they good an’ ready for it to stick.” 

Daryl hummed.

“Or until they got somethin’ else,” Daryl said. “Somewhere safe. Dry. Tonight she’s with Andrea.”

Merle nodded his head. 

“Tonight she’s with Andrea,” Merle echoed. “Safe an’ dry. How old was the kid? Andrea ain’t said much about it.” 

“Girl,” Daryl said. “She was a lil’ bitty thing. About four or five, I’d say.” 

“Bruised up?” Merle asked. 

“Not so I could tell,” Daryl said. “She was tryin’ to sleep most of the time. All laid up across her Ma.”

Merle nodded his head. 

“Well...they’re both safe with Andrea,” Merle said. “Warm. Comfortable. Probably better fed than we are when the sun comes up,” he added with a laugh. “Andrea did get the info on the car, though. Sent it through to Axel. He’ll go out there first thing in the mornin’ an’ haul the thing in.” 

“Straight to Andrea’s?” Daryl asked. 

“Shop first,” Merle said. 

“We told her she could get on the road if she wanted,” Daryl said. “Just as soon as the sun was up.” 

“She can get on the road as soon as the car’s runnin’,” Merle said. “She’s got a kid. She’ll understand that. Don’t nobody wanna send her out there when it ain’t safe.” 

“You mean if there’s somethin’ wrong with the car?” Daryl asked. 

“That too,” Merle said. “Andrea’s gonna see if she wants to do a couple things with her. She’ll take tomorrow off work. We’ll check out the car an’ let her know how long it’ll be ‘til it’s up an’ runnin’.” 

“She did mention she might wanna stay around here,” Daryl said. 

Merle stared at him. The corners of his mouth turned up. 

“That mean you’re hopin’ she does or she don’t?” Merle asked. 

Daryl shrugged his shoulders as a response and Merle chuckled.

“Don’t yank me around, Daryl,” Merle said. “You got a look on your face that I’d know any damn where.” 

“I ain’t got no kind of look, Merle,” Daryl responded.

“You got the kinda look you had back when you had that stinkin’ ass hound dog you found that day when you was a kid,” Merle said. “An’ I told you don’t get too attached ‘cause the old man was gonna take it off as soon as he showed back up. You stayed up half the damn night huggin’ that hound’s neck with that same look on your face. You ain’t had that dog but half a damn day an’ you was already sad to lose it.” 

Daryl swallowed and focused on the lighter that he’d been toying with.

“I was a kid,” Daryl offered.

“And you ain’t changed all that much,” Merle said. “You that set on this woman an’ you just met her?” 

“Not set on her,” Daryl said. He shook his head, but he didn’t really know if he believed himself. He didn’t fully understand the feeling that he had down in the deepest part of his gut. He wasn’t ready to talk about it either, though, and especially not while his brother was set on giving him a hard time. 

“What is it, then?” Merle asked. He laughed to himself. “You can tell me, lil’ brother.”

Daryl flipped his brother off for his teasing and the act only drew more laughter from Merle.

“I don’t even know her,” Daryl said. “I ain’t set on her. She could be leavin’ when the sun comes up. If that car runs, she could be on the road ‘fore lunch. I guess I’m just—worried about her. She looks like she’s in a rough spot, that’s all. We all been in one of those before.”

“We sure have,” Merle agreed. “We sure have. You sure that’s all it is, though? You’re just sympathetic with this woman that looks like she’s ass deep in shit right now?” 

Daryl nodded his head. 

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Just worried about her. That’s all.” 

“My brother,” Merle mused. “Always the sweet one.” He stood up from the table and took his plate to the sink. He drained his beer and threw away the bottle before he took a fresh one from the fridge and reached for his cigarettes. “Goin’ to bed. Don’t stay up all night. Whether she goes or she stays—worryin’ over it all night ain’t gonna have no more effect over her than it did that hound. You hear me, Daryl?” 

“Fuck off, Merle,” Daryl offered, not really feeling any true burning annoyance with his brother.

“Night, Daryl,” Merle responded before he headed for his bedroom, leaving Daryl alone in the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. Much more to come, we’re still just getting set up here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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When Carol woke up, her daughter was still sleeping. She sat up and looked around the small bedroom. For a split second, she nearly panicked because she couldn’t remember where she was, but it didn’t take long before it all came flooding back to her. 

Carol eased out of the bed and rearranged the clothes she’d been given to sleep in from the twisted state they’d succumbed to during the night. She slipped as quietly as she could out of the small bedroom and made her way to the bathroom that Andrea had shown her the night before. When she’d relieved herself and washed her hands, she left the bathroom. She found Andrea, also in her pajamas, keeping watch over a coffee pot that was busy producing a pot of coffee for the two of them.

“You like coffee?” Andrea asked.

“Who doesn’t?” Carol responded. 

Andrea laughed to herself. 

“Do you really like coffee or are you still stuck on that streak of being agreeable that you got stuck on last night?” Andrea asked. “Because you’re not going to offend me if you don’t drink the coffee. I promise you—a pot of coffee won’t go to waste around here if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I really like coffee,” Carol assured her. 

“Cream and sugar?” Andrea asked.

“Just cream,” Carol said. 

Andrea smiled. 

“Just sugar for me,” she said. “We’re already complementing one another.” She quickly filled two mugs with coffee and gestured toward the door. “I like to have my coffee on the porch in the morning. With a cigarette. Would you like to join me?” 

“Sophia’s still sleeping,” Carol said. 

“We’ll leave the door open,” Andrea said. “We’ll hear her and she’ll hear us.” 

Carol nodded her acceptance and reached to take the cup from Andrea that was offered to her, the contents of the mug was still swirling around from the quick stir that Andrea had given it. She followed Andrea out onto the porch and sat at the small table that was out there. Andrea produced a pack of cigarettes from the waistband of her cotton shorts, shook out a lighter and a cigarette and offered the pack to Carol. Carol didn’t smoke often, but she occasionally had a few. This morning she decided to take the blonde up on her offer.

The night before, Carol hadn’t gotten a good look at anything. She didn’t know what the town really looked like. She hadn’t seen much as they’d travelled from the bar to the house that Andrea called home. She’d been too focused on what was happening and darkness and rain had made it difficult to see much anyway.

Now Carol could see that Andrea’s house was a small but nice little house. She seemed to be sort of tucked back off the road and her house was at least partially hidden by bushes and a fence. There were neighboring houses that Carol could see, but the landscaping gave the feeling that the house was much more secluded than it actually was. 

“This is nice,” Carol said. 

“The coffee?” Andrea asked. She slid the ashtray over so that it was between herself and Carol.

“The coffee,” Carol said. “Your house. The company.” 

Andrea smiled at her. 

“I’m fond of my home,” Andrea said. “And I don’t make bad coffee. At least, I don’t think I do. I don’t think the company is terrible either.” She was quiet for a moment and then she spoke again. “I talked to Merle this morning. He said they found your car and Axel is going to take the truck over there and get it. He’ll take it by the shop. They’ll let me know when it’s ready for you. Merle said that he’s guessing all your stuff was in it, but there wasn’t much there. He's sending a prospect over with your bags later.” 

“A prospect?” Carol asked.

“A prospective member of the MC,” Andrea said. 

“Merle’s your...” Carol started, but she wasn’t sure how to finish her statement.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Andrea said. “My old man. Whatever you want to call him is fine. He’s my Merle, mostly.” 

“And he’s part of the MC?” Carol asked.

“The president,” Andrea said. “Like—the leader. He’s the one who handles everything. Or, at least, he delegates the tasks.” 

Carol nodded her head.

“That’s why everyone treated you like you were some kind of queen last night,” Carol said. “Because you’re the president’s girlfriend.”

Andrea laughed to herself.

“I’m the president’s old lady,” Andrea said. She drummed her fingers on the side of her coffee cup. “Maybe that’s not the only reason. But I wasn’t some groupie, either. Merle and I’ve been together a long time. But that’s a long story and it’s boring for someone who doesn’t have a reason to care.” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I care,” she said. “Tell me. I’m interested.” 

Andrea hummed and shook her head. 

“I tell you what—later. I’ll tell you that story later. But right now? I’m interested in you,” Andrea said. 

Carol shook her head in response, doing her best to dismiss Andrea’s interest in her.

“I don’t have much to tell,” Carol said.

“I think you’ve got a lot to tell,” Andrea said. 

“Not much more than I told you last night,” Carol said. She sucked in a breath and let it out. She was ashamed of what she’d let herself get into. She was ashamed that she’d taken this long to leave Ed. But she wasn’t ashamed to admit what had happened to her or to admit the fact that she was finally doing whatever it took to get away from him. “I’m married. I don’t want to be. He’s the father of my daughter, but he never wanted her. He hasn’t been the kind of husband he promised to be and he hasn’t been the kind of father that a child like Sophia deserves. I bought the car cheap. It’s all I have. It doesn’t have tags. I was driving it illegally. The two bags in the back of it are all I have. I have a couple hundred dollars that I’ve been squirreling away and yesterday I finally took it and—well I took everything I could carry. I left. And I don’t want to go back. I don’t want Sophia to go back to that. I never, ever want to go back.” 

Andrea reached her hand across the table and covered Carol’s with it. 

“That was one thing I wanted to know,” Andrea said. “But—I have to ask, if you’re not going back, where are you going?” 

“What?” Carol asked.

“When you get that car back,” Andrea said, “where are you going? Are you leaving or are you staying in Liberty?” 

Carol studied her coffee. Then she glanced around her. Maybe she was simply intoxicated by the kindness of strangers. Maybe she was still tired and coming down off the adrenaline of her escape and the crash made her long to stay and rest. Maybe she was sucked in by the seemingly peaceful solitude of Andrea’s quiet little home. 

But there was something about Liberty that had Carol’s attention. 

“You said there’s nothing here for me,” Carol said. 

“I said there’s not much of anything in Liberty for anyone,” Andrea said. “It’s a small town, Carol. The kind that has a couple of stoplights now and a few businesses, but most people here know each other. Most of them mind each other’s business a little too much. When someone new comes into town, it can sometimes seem like they’re getting torn apart as everyone tries to figure out where they fit and who they fit with.” 

“It’s quiet here,” Carol said.

“Most of the time,” Andrea said. 

“There aren’t a lot of new people?” Carol asked.

“People pass through Liberty,” Andrea said. “Not a lot of them stay.” 

“Is there a lot of crime?” Carol asked. 

“It’s a pretty safe town,” Andrea said. “Especially for someone like you. You wouldn’t cause trouble and you wouldn’t go looking for it. I think there’s an old adage that states that those who go looking for trouble often find it.” 

“Good schools?” Carol asked. 

“I think so,” Andrea said. “A lot of that depends on the student.” 

“I don’t have anything,” Carol said. “I don’t have money. I don’t have—much work experience. I worked in an office for a little while after high school, but I married Ed so young and he really didn’t want me to work.” 

“If you’re set on staying in Liberty,” Andrea said, “then I could help you find some work. It might not be the best job, but it’ll be a job. It’ll be a place to start with a paycheck. I can help you get a place to live. For now—why not stay here? I mean it’s not great, but it’s something. I don’t mean forever or anything. Just a couple weeks. Get your feet on the ground. It’ll give you time to look around and see what might be for sale or for rent. Just so you’re not jumping into a contract or something.” 

“Why would you do that?” Carol asked. 

“You’re getting out. You’re taking control of your life. I respect that,” Andrea said. “And I want to help you do that. If the only thing standing between you and freedom from some asshole is knowing you’ve got a roof over your head until you can get on your feet? I’ve got plenty of roof to spare. Besides, you seem like a nice person and you’ve got a kid. I’m a sucker for a kid.” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“She’s a good kid,” Carol said. “Her father never saw that. He always thought she was terrible. But really, she’s just a kid. You know?” 

“I know,” Andrea said. 

Carol smiled when she heard Sophia call from inside the house. 

“Right on cue,” Carol teased. “I’m out here, sweetheart. On the porch.” 

“So you want to give Liberty a chance?” Andrea asked. 

Carol nodded. 

“I think I do,” Carol said. “But I can’t keep taking advantage of you.” 

“I promise,” Andrea said, “the first moment that I think you’re taking advantage, you’ll be on your own. But there are a couple things I’d like to do today. There are couple of things I’d like for you to do with me. Do you have the time to spare? Then maybe we can talk about getting you a job?” 

“If I can help you with anything,” Carol offered. 

“Breakfast first,” Andrea said. “And then we’ll talk about it all. Sophia?” Andrea called out to the little girl who was now standing and staring out the screen door. “Do you happen to like pancakes?” 

Sophia smiled and nodded.

“What do you say, Sophia?” Carol asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Sophia said. 

“Great,” Andrea said. “Because I do too. And today just might be the perfect day for some pancakes.”

Carol followed Andrea inside and stooped down to offer Sophia a kiss. She brushed her daughter’s hair back. 

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Carol asked. 

Sophia nodded. 

“Do you need my help?” Carol asked. 

Sophia shook her head. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Carol said. She directed Sophia to the bathroom and stood outside the door to see if her daughter might change her mind on whether or not she needed her help. Andrea kept casting glances at her over her shoulder. 

“She’s sweet,” Andrea said. 

“She is,” Carol said. “What do you need help with today?” 

“It’s not help, exactly,” Andrea said. “Carol—I’m a lawyer. There’s not that much work in Liberty proper, but I work as far away as Atlanta if I need to. I have some connections. I do pro-bono a lot for women who need help getting away from...well, men like your husband.”

“You’re a lawyer?” Carol asked. 

“Your tone of voice says you’d believe me faster if I told you that I was a rodeo clown,” Andrea said with a laugh. 

“I guess I just didn’t expect it,” Carol said. 

“Because my old man is the president of a MC?” Andrea asked. “Carol—if you’re going to live in Liberty, I’m going to let you in on one little secret, OK?” 

Carol hummed at her. 

“The club is a big presence in Liberty. The Judges? They have—they have a sort of reach that extends to every part of Liberty and even outside of it. Some of it’s good, and some of it’s bad. But the one thing that you’re going to want to do is to not be too judgmental of the Judges. After all—if it weren’t for the Vice President? You wouldn’t be here right now. Your car would still be stuck in a ditch. I would have never met you. I certainly wouldn’t be offering you all that I’m offering you right now. You see what I’m saying?” Andrea said. 

Carol felt her throat tighten.

“I didn’t mean...I’m so sorry,” Carol said. “I didn’t mean to come off like that. I guess I just thought...”

“I know what you thought,” Andrea said. “And sometimes you’re right, and sometimes you’re wrong, and sometimes you’re half-right. It’s better to just let people show you who they are. Besides, you remember what I told you about Liberty and how new arrivals sometimes get treated? You might be well on your way to being one of those people who gets judged by what people assume rather than what they know.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Carol said. 

“And I’m not mad,” Andrea said. “We won’t talk about it anymore.”

“I don’t know anything about MCs,” Carol said. 

“If you stay around here,” Andrea promised her, “you’re going to know plenty.”

Carol moved out of the way when Sophia opened the bathroom door and walked out. 

“Did you wash your hands?” Carol asked. Sophia nodded her head. Carol only had to raise an eyebrow at her daughter and Sophia knew what she meant.

“Yes, Mama,” Sophia said quietly. 

“Do you like bacon or sausage, Sophia?” Andrea asked. 

Sophia eyed Carol like she wasn’t sure if she should respond. Carol nodded at her. 

“I like bacon,” Sophia said. 

“You want to help?” Andrea asked. “And after breakfast—we’re going to go and do a few things. We might even get you a surprise.” 

Sophia quickly crossed the small house to “help” Andrea in the kitchen with whatever simple tasks the blonde could make up for her to do. 

“There’s no need to get her anything,” Carol said. “I don’t want to put anybody out.” 

“Then don’t,” Andrea said. “If I do something, I’m doing it because I want to, Carol. I just need you to understand that. Nobody makes me do anything that I don’t want to do. OK?”

“So anything you’re doing for me is just because you want to do it,” Carol said. 

“Precisely,” Andrea responded.

“And because you’re—some kind of fairy godmother or guardian angel or something,” Carol said. 

Andrea laughed. 

“I’m no angel,” Andrea said. “But I’ve been called worse things. Sit down. Let’s have breakfast before the prospect gets here. Then you can get changed. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get everything done.”


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Here we go, another chapter here. 

Thank you all so much for the response to this story. It makes me so happy to know you’re as excited for this story as I am! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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They had to wait on the prospect, as Andrea had called him, to get there with Carol’s bags before they could run any of the errands that Andrea said she needed to attend to. Carol and Sophia’s clothes from the night before, brought from the bar in a plastic bag, had soured and they weren’t going to be able to wear them until they’d at least been washed once. Andrea’s clothes were fine for them to sleep in, but Sophia wasn’t going to be able to sport such oversized clothing in public—not if they didn’t want to draw a great deal of attention to themselves.

Carol had finally convinced Andrea to at least let her help with something by washing the dishes. Andrea took advantage of the time freed up for herself to find something on television for Sophia to watch and to step into her bedroom to find clothes that she wanted to wear on their errands. Carol was just washing up the counters and sink, hoping to leave the kitchen as close to spotless as was possible, when she heard someone rap on the door. 

Carol jumped at the sound and then laughed to herself over how easily startled she could sometimes be. She wiped her hands on the dishtowel, looped it over its small bar, and then walked around to the door. 

She was surprised to find Daryl, the man she’d met at the bar the night before, standing there with her bag in one hand and Sophia’s in the other. 

“Door’s latched,” Daryl said. 

“What?” Carol asked.

“The latch,” Daryl said. “In the upper corner. Door’s latched.” 

Carol glanced at the door. There was a small hook on the screen door that was probably there to keep the door from ever being blown open by the wind because it really provided no great security. It was hooked so that the door was held closed and Daryl, from the outside, couldn’t open it without yanking the small hook out of the door. 

Carol smiled to herself and flicked it upward.

“Andrea must’ve done that,” Carol said. She pushed the door open, making a way for Daryl to come into the house. He stepped in around her, bringing the bags with him. “I didn’t even realize it was there.”

“She always latches the door when she’s home,” Daryl said. He put the bags down. “Says it’s for keepin’ out the prospects. I suspect it’s to give her a lil’ more warnin’ when she’s got visitors.” 

Carol smiled at him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you in,” Carol said.

“What?” Daryl asked. He furrowed his brow at her. 

“If it’s meant to keep out prospects, maybe I shouldn’t have let you in,” Carol said. “Andrea told me but—I didn’t realize you were a prospect.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“What?” He asked again. 

“You’re not a prospect?” Carol asked.

“Andrea! What the hell you sayin’ about me when I’m not around?” Daryl called out. Andrea called out something from her bedroom, but Carol couldn’t make out what she said. Daryl looked thoroughly amused, though, even if he had no more idea than Carol what Andrea had said. He shook his head at her. “No,” he said. “I’m a full patch. Not some prospect.” 

Now it was Carol’s turn to furrow her brow at Daryl.

“Andrea said that—a prospect was bringing my bags,” Carol said.

Daryl’s face said “Oh” for him, even if his mouth didn’t bother to join in.

“Yeah—no,” Daryl said. “Both the prospects was busy. Had other shit to do. I just brought the bags by. Figured I’d check on you. Ya know—see how you was all doin’ here. See if Andrea needed anything. Or you. If you need anything, I mean.” Daryl laughed to himself. “Shit,” he stammered. “I’m sorry. I just brought the bags by. If you need anything, I can handle that too. But I’m the Vice President. Not a damn prospect.” 

Carol didn’t know whether to be amused by the fact that the man standing in front of her in a dirty shirt and leather was somewhat tripping over his own words or apologetic for her confusion. She swallowed back her humor and went with apologetic.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Carol said. “By calling you a prospect. I really only just learned what a prospect is.” 

“Don’t let him lie to you,” Andrea said, emerging from her bedroom. “Daryl’s nothing but a prospect.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“If I’m a prospect, your ass ain’t nothin’ but a house mouse!” Daryl declared.

Andrea walked over to him and offered him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Don’t let your brother hear you,” Andrea said. She turned to Carol. “Daryl’s not a prospect. But Merle did tell me a prospect was coming.” She directed her words, then, to Daryl. “So you can’t blame Carol. She’s just learning and she had every reason in the world to believe that you were a prospect.”

“Is it an insult?” Carol asked.

“Prospect’s just—someone who’s tryin’ to get into the club,” Daryl said. “Someone ain’t been voted in to be a real brother yet.” 

“A prospect’s job is to eat shit and like it,” Andrea said. She cringed, made a face, and glanced back in the direction of her own living room where Sophia was watching cartoons with the chocolate milk she’d escaped breakfast with. “Sorry,” Andrea said. 

Carol shook her head.

“She’s heard worse,” Carol assured her. “And in a lot worse of a tone. You can see—it didn’t even distract her from the newest diabolical plan of the Road Runner.” 

“She’s a cute kid,” Daryl offered. “Did—uh—did’ja have more’n that? ‘Cause that’s all we found in the car.” 

“That’s it,” Carol said, looking at the two bags on the floor. “To be honest, I took what I could carry. I left the rest.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Andrea said. “Stuff can be replaced. You’ve got enough there to get through. I can loan you anything else you need until you’re on your feet. What about the car?” 

“What?” Daryl asked.

“The car,” Andrea said. “What about getting it fixed?” 

“I don’t know about that,” Daryl said. “I mean it’ll run but I wouldn’t drive it.” He scratched at the back of his neck and looked at Carol almost apologetically. “Them tires are shot. I mean—there’s more tread on a baby’s ass than there is on any of them tires.” 

Carol frowned.

“I can’t afford new tires,” Carol said.

“You can’t drive around without tags, either,” Andrea said. “Not in Liberty. The cops’ll look the other way if Axel’s moving a car from one place to another, but as soon as you’re driving it around? They’ll have you pulled over. If you’re staying here like you say you are? That car’s as good as parked until you can get some insurance.” 

“I can’t afford that either,” Carol said, her stomach twisting up at the thought of all these expenses that she absolutely didn’t have the means to cover.

“So you are stayin’ in Liberty?” Daryl asked. Carol thought he smiled, but he quickly wiped it away if that was the case. He turned abruptly and headed toward the door. “Gonna smoke,” he announced as an explanation for his sudden need to disappear. The conversation didn’t have to end, though, just because Daryl excused himself to the porch. Andrea followed him to the screen door and Carol went a step further and stepped outside. As soon as she was outside the door, Andrea followed suit. “You’re stayin’ around?” Daryl repeated, immediately placing his cigarette between his lips and bringing the flame up to light it. 

“I thought I would,” Carol said. “It’s a small town and...well, like I said last night, it seems like just what I’m looking for. The kind of place you can disappear in.” 

Daryl hummed. He glanced at Andrea and then back at Carol. Carol looked at Andrea.

“Am I missing something?” Carol asked.

“Just—Liberty’s the kind of town where you can disappear from the rest of the world, but as soon as you’re here, everyone knows about it. You can’t really disappear inside of Liberty,” Andrea explained. “Everyone in Liberty’s going to know you’re here.” 

“I don’t care,” Carol said. “I don’t care at all. I—don’t mind if people want to talk about me. I don’t even care what they say. I just want to disappear from what’s out there. I don’t care what’s in here.” 

“Liberty ain’t that bad,” Daryl said, shaking his head at her. “Be nice to have some fresh blood around here.” 

“It almost doesn’t look like I have a choice anyway,” Carol said. “I’ve got a car, but I can’t drive it. I can’t afford insurance. I can’t buy tires. I can afford something to eat and maybe a crummy motel room, but I knew I wasn’t getting too far before I had to stop and do something. I was focused on getting out. I knew I wasn’t set for life. Not on what I had.” 

“Don’t worry about the money,” Andrea said. “You’ve got a roof over your head. We’ll start working on the rest today. I’m sure there’s a job to be had in Liberty somewhere. Maybe you don’t start out at your dream job, but you’ll start somewhere.” 

“Right now,” Carol said, “any job’s a dream. Anything means...I’ve got a job. I’m earning my own money. That’s a dream.” 

“Then you’re really going to like it here,” Andrea teased. “We can make all your wildest dreams come true. Daryl—do you or Merle know anywhere they’re hiring?” 

Daryl shrugged his shoulders and chewed at the cuticle on his thumb.

“They ain’t nowhere that I know of,” Daryl said. “We got a spot at the shop, but I don’t suppose you a mechanic.” Carol shook her head in response. Daryl laughed to himself. He’d clearly anticipated that response. “I don’t know of nothin’ else. I’m sure Merle does, though. Gotta be somethin’ around. He could pull a few strings.” 

“I don’t want to put anybody out,” Carol said quickly.

“I’ve already told you once today,” Andrea said, “you’re not putting anyone out. But—go get changed. We’ve got some things to get done.” She looked at Daryl. “We’ll come by the shop later. See if Merle knows of anything?” 

Daryl nodded his head. 

“I’m on it,” he said. He looked at Carol and licked his lips like he was about to speak. He hesitated, though, and then moved like he’d speak again, but nothing came out. 

Carol smiled at him. 

“Thank you for bringing our bags,” she said. 

Daryl nodded his head. 

“I guess I’ll see you later,” Carol added. “At the—at the shop?” 

Daryl nodded his head again. 

“Yeah,” he got out this time. “Yeah—you too.” 

Carol didn’t point out that she hadn’t said anything that really merited the response. Daryl’s facial expression said that he immediately heard his own faux pas and he shook his head. Carol shook hers in response to let him know, if he was even thinking it might be, that it was no reason to be embarrassed. 

“It was nice to see you,” Carol said. “Again,” she added.

Daryl smiled at her, seemingly pleased that he had a reason to use the line that he’d so accidentally spit out at her before. 

“Yeah,” he said. “You too.” 

Carol slipped back inside the house, then, and looked through her bags in the kitchen floor. She honestly didn’t even know what was packed there. She’d packed in a hurry. She’d had nothing on her mind beyond throwing a few things into the bag and getting out of the house as quickly as possible. She hadn’t wanted to take too long with packing because she’d wanted to put as much distance between herself and Ed as was possible before he had a chance to realize she was gone. 

She was glad Andrea had given her a toothbrush because, upon inspection of her bag, she realized that she didn’t even have that.

After taking a quick inventory of her bags, Carol zipped them up and gathered the bags up to take them to the bedroom and start getting herself and Sophia ready. Just before she called to Sophia to drag the girl away from her cartoons, though, she stopped because she overheard part of the conversation on the porch. It wasn’t her place to listen, and Carol knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but she couldn’t quite help herself.

Carol smiled to herself when she caught snatches of the words from Andrea and Daryl’s discussion. It seemed they were both in agreement about one thing. 

Liberty would be better for having her.

And Carol thought, even if she wasn’t sharing the sentiment with the two who thought they were chatting privately amongst themselves, that she just might be better for having found Liberty.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. Of course we’re really still putting pieces together and building things here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“The pictures and reports of the bruises are enough to establish that there was a very recent attack,” the doctor said. “The X-Rays will cover past history of abuse.” 

Carol sat in a wooden chair next to Andrea. A heavy, antique desk separated them from the doctor that had examined Carol and taken care of every test that Andrea had requested as though it were an emergency that simply couldn’t wait. Now they were in her private office while Sophia played one room away from them with some toys. The door had been left partially ajar and Carol could see Sophia any time she leaned backward just a little in the chair and glanced in her direction. 

It was better if Sophia didn’t have to hear too much. She already knew far too much for her age. 

“I need copies of everything,” Andrea said. “Several copies.”

“I can get you copies of whatever you want,” the doctor responded. Her name was Dr. Walker, but she insisted that Carol call her Alice. “Just give me a couple of hours. I can push them to rush tests and x-rays, but if I start getting too demanding? You know as well as I do that you don’t want your staff to be too annoyed with you.” 

Andrea nodded.

“Just have them sent to my office, Al?” 

“As soon as I can,” Alice assured her. 

“That’ll be soon enough,” Andrea said.

“I hate for everyone to go through so much trouble,” Carol said. 

“It’s no trouble,” Andrea said.

“This is just a thing,” Alice said. “It’s a couple of test and few copies. This doesn’t classify as trouble at all.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to be able to...”

Andrea cut Carol off before she could even continue.

“If you’re about to tell me that you don’t know how you’re going to pay anybody back, then I’m going to ask you not to,” Andrea said. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe Alice anything. Both of us do a certain amount of free work every year. They call it charitable contribution. You can think of it as whatever you want. However you think of it, we’ve got it covered.” 

“You can’t make any money working for free,” Carol said. “And I’m not stupid enough to believe that you’re not trying to make a living.” 

“We both make fine livings,” Alice said. “Don’t worry about that. Sometimes it’s just polite to say thank you and move on.” 

Carol smiled at the woman as sincerely as she could.

“Thank you,” she said. “But I still wish there was something I could do to pay you back.”

“I’m sure there will be someday,” Alice said. “Until then? We’ll just say you owe me a favor. That’s how things work most of the time in Liberty anyway.” 

“Do you owe Andrea a favor?” Carol asked.

Alice laughed and looked at Andrea. She shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows. 

“I’m sure I owe Andrea a few favors,” Alice said. “I’m sure she owes me too.”

“It’s been a long time since either of us bothered to keep track,” Andrea said. She stood up and looped her purse strap over her shoulder. Carol followed suit and Alice stood as well. “Thanks again, Alice, but we better get out of your hair. Let you get back to work.” 

Alice laughed. 

“They won’t let me be on vacation all day,” Alice said. “Will I see you at the Chambers later?” 

Andrea glanced at Carol quickly and then back at Alice. 

“Probably,” Andrea said. “Maybe,” she added with a little hesitation. “We’ll have to see how the day goes. Carol’s staying with me and...”

“And I don’t want anyone to change their lives because of me,” Carol said. 

“Maybe,” Andrea said. “I hadn’t really made any plans to go up there either way.” 

“I’ll be there,” Alice said. “Court at seven.” 

“Then maybe I’ll swing by,” Andrea said, “around seven thirty or eight.”

Carol stood and waited while the women finished up their conversation. Sure that they were done talking, even if she wasn’t fully aware of what they were talking about, Carol offered her hand out to the doctor that she’d just met. 

“Thank you, Dr. Walker,” Carol said.

“Alice,” Alice responded. “I told you. Dr. Walker is too formal. That’s for people that I don’t know.” 

Carol smiled at her and raised her eyebrows.

“You barely know me, though,” Carol reminded her.

“Then maybe it’s for people I don’t hope to get to know better,” Alice responded.

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“Is your friend a lawyer too?” Carol asked. “Can—someone be a lawyer and a doctor?”

She’d waited until they were in the car again to ask Andrea anything about Alice. The doctor had been kind to her and she’d given Sophia some stickers and a sucker just for coming along. Carol didn’t want to insult the woman by questioning Andrea about her in her presence.

“I’m sorry?” Andrea asked, watching the road as she steered the car slowly through the small town of Liberty, practically crawling around a picturesque town square complete with a fountain.

“Alice,” Carol said. “She’s a doctor, correct?” 

“Actually she’s more than just a doctor. She’s a surgeon. One of the best in the county,” Andrea said. “You’d be surprised how far some people will come just for surgery with her. She’s really highly regarded. She’s got surprisingly steady hands.” Andrea laughed to herself. “At least it’s surprising once you know Al a bit better.” 

“What was I doing wasting the time of a surgeon?” Carol asked.

“You weren’t wasting her time,” Andrea said. “She’s a surgeon, but she’s a doctor. She does what she needs to do. Seeing you was something she felt compelled to do today.” 

“Because you asked her to?” Carol asked.

“That’s how she knew you were here,” Andrea said, “but she would’ve seen you anyway.” 

Carol sighed. She wasn’t going to get any kind of answer about whether or not the poor woman had been required to see her. Andrea was persistent in promising her that everything that everyone was doing was because they wanted to do it. 

“So she’s a surgeon, but she’s a lawyer too?” Carol asked.

“Alice isn’t a lawyer,” Andrea said. “I’m a lawyer.” 

“But she’s got court?” Carol asked. “Is she testifying?” 

“Ooooh,” Andrea said, drawing the word out, her voice barely above a whisper. “No. It’s not that kind of court. Court is—it’s what they Judges call it when they have a table meeting. When they have club business to discuss, they tell everyone that they have to come to court at the Chambers. Everyone meets there.” 

“Are you going to court?” Carol asked.

“If we go to the Chambers, we’ll go a little later,” Andrea said. “Give them time to wrap things up. They’ll break after court and everyone will just kind of hang out.” 

“So you’re not going to court?” Carol asked.

“I’m an old lady,” Andrea said. “I don’t get invited to court. I get told what I need to know on a need-to-know basis. I’m not a member of the club. I’m just—you know—riding the President’s...”

She stopped before she finished and glanced at Carol. She winked at her. Carol was certain she’d stopped short just because of the five year old in the backseat—the five year old that was at least listening to some of the conversation because she latched onto what Andrea had said.

“Does he have a pony?” Sophia asked quickly and loudly. 

Andrea laughed to herself.

“Not exactly,” Andrea said. “But I do know where we could ride some ponies if you’d like that. Would you like that, Sophia?”

“Oh! I wanna ride a pony!” Sophia responded. “Mama! Can I ride Andrea’s pony?” 

“Andrea doesn’t have a pony, sweetheart,” Carol responded. 

“But a friend of Andrea’s does,” Andrea said. “And if you wanna ride a pony, I think it can be arranged. Not today, though, OK? Can we ride the pony another day?” 

“Tomorrow?” Sophia asked.

“Sophia,” Carol said, trying to put a little warning into her tone. “Let’s not drive Andrea crazy about this, OK?”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Sophia offered softly. “I’m sorry, Andrea. I didn’t mean...”

“You didn’t,” Andrea interrupted. “It’s OK. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be like a week. I have to do a few things. I’ve got to make a call or two. But soon, OK, Soph?”

“OK,” Sophia responded, just a touch of disappointment coming through in her tone.

“You don’t have to do that,” Carol said quietly. 

“I don’t have to do anything,” Andrea said. “Hey—Sophia? Do you remember where you got that burger last night?” Sophia hummed at her. “Do you want to go get another burger tonight? Just not quite so late? Maybe something else you’d like to eat? At the same place?” 

“That would be OK,” Sophia offered. “Mama? That would be OK?”

Carol glanced at Andrea and Andrea smiled at her. 

“What do you say, Mama? A burger on the house?” Andrea asked.

“It’ll be OK,” Carol said. “But—I still don’t understand. Alice is going to court but you aren’t? Is she a super old lady or something?” 

“Is that like—an old lady with super powers?” Andrea asked with a laugh. “I’m not sure I follow.” 

“Why can she go to court?” Carol asked.

“Because she’s a full patch,” Andrea said.

“Like Daryl?” Carol asked.

Andrea hummed.

“Daryl is the Vice President,” Andrea said. “He’s also a full patch. Alice doesn’t hold an office, but she’s a full patch.” 

“Of a biker gang,” Carol filled in.

“Of a motorcycle club,” Andrea corrected. 

“Women can be members?” Carol asked.

“Not usually,” Andrea said. “Except for Alice. It’s complicated, though, and it’s a long story. Besides, it’s not really my story to tell and it doesn’t matter right now. If you’re that interested, get Daryl to tell you. Or Merle. Or even Alice. Suffice it to say that Alice is a full patch. That’s all you need to know about that.”

“Are there any other women in the club?” Carol asked.

“No,” Andrea said. “At least not in our chapter. I don’t know enough about the other chapters to tell you for certain.” 

Carol pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Do I need to know what a chapter is?” Carol asked.

Andrea laughed. 

“Just another branch of the club,” Andrea said. “So, no, you really don’t need to know. Listen, we’re heading to the shop now. Merle will be there. He’ll probably have some lead on a job for you. We’ll tell him that we’re coming up to the Chambers and we’ll find out what time he thinks court will be over. It could be a short meeting or a long one. I don’t really know what’s on the table right now. We’ll decide, then, what we’re doing, OK?”

“You’re sure that—he’s not going to mind us being there?” Carol asked.

“Merle gets annoyed if I don’t make it up there,” Andrea said. “The Chambers is just a bar, Carol. It’s just where the club hangs out. There’s nothing sacred about it except when they’re at court. And when they’re at court, the doors are locked. You couldn’t interrupt them if you wanted to.” 

“What about...? I don’t want...” Carol gestured toward the back seat with her head when Andrea looked at her with confusion on her features. “I don’t want anyone feeling annoyed or put out.” 

“They’re gonna love it,” Andrea said. “I promise you. They love children. Every year they do a couple runs for a few different children’s charities. Having a kid running around at the Chambers for a couple of hours is just enough to make their night.” 

“It might not be the best environment for her,” Carol offered. “And I don’t mean that because of the club,” she said quickly. “I mean that because—it’s a bar. If I’m going to court and I’m going to try to keep you-know-who from having custody? How’s that going to look on me if anyone finds out?” 

“She won’t be living there,” Andrea said. “It’s a couple of hours. But you’re right. Maybe it’s not the best place for her to be very often. Still, I don’t think that it could really be used against you as long as there are no signs of negligence or abuse. It’s a building and that’s all it is, really, as long as she’s not in any danger. Give me a couple of days, though, and I know we can find someone who will babysit when you need it. Or—you don’t even have to go tonight. I don’t have to go tonight. We’ll just tell Merle that it’s not a good idea and he’ll understand.” 

“No,” Carol said. “No—you should keep doing what it is that you do. And I’d like to have a chance to say thank you to Merle. To Daryl, too. Alice. If I stay away then it’s going to look like I’m just taking advantage but I’m avoiding them otherwise.” 

“Your reasons are good,” Andrea said. “Nobody’s going to fault you for taking care of your daughter. I promise you that. Whatever you do, they’re going to respect you for being a good mother. But we’ll talk to Merle. We’ll go tonight. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll leave. That’s all there is to it. I’ll make some calls and find a babysitter for the future in case you might want to go up there. Whatever you decide to do, Carol? I know she’s your number one priority and everyone—and I mean everyone—is going to respect that. Trust me, at the Chambers or anywhere else in Liberty, she’ll be taken care of.”


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol watched the two bikes in front of them as Andrea followed behind them in her car. Daryl was one of the bikers, but the other biker was new to Carol, even though she’d heard his name a number of times already. His name was Merle and, apparently, he was Daryl’s older brother, Andrea’s “old man”, and the president of the Judges.

And he was going to help Carol get her feet on the ground. At least that’s what she’d been told. 

Andrea followed the car back to the bar where Carol had first met the Judges the night before. The bar looked different in the daytime. It didn’t look as scary or as daunting. Of course, maybe it looked different because it wasn’t pouring rain or because there wasn’t a long line of bikes parked out front. At the moment there was only one old bike with a sidecar attached to it that was parked out front. 

Daryl and Merle both parked their bikes and Andrea chose a place to park her car. Carol got out when Andrea opened her car door and she got Sophia out the back of the car. Together, all of them walked toward the entrance of the bar where Daryl and Merle were both headed in a hurry.

Carol was barely in the door before she jumped at the sound of Merle shouting. His shout was followed by Daryl shouting as well. Both of them were yelling the same word.

“Teeter! Teeter!”

Carol had no idea what “teeter” might mean, but she’d learned that there was a great deal that she didn’t know when it came to bikers. Still, both men walked around the bar yelling the word. 

And then Carol realized what a “teeter” was shortly after there was a heavy thud and Merle rushed toward the back of the bar only to return seconds later in the company of a very old man who was wearing the same kind of vest that Daryl and Merle were wearing.

“Jesus, Teeter!” Daryl barked at him. “You scared the fuckin’ shit outta us. You can’t not answer the damn phone! How was we s’posed to know you ain’t fell in the fuckin’ freezer or some shit?” 

Carol laughed to herself. She looked at Andrea who looked at least a little rattled. Carol hadn’t known what to expect when they’d been nearing the shop where they were supposed to meet Merle only to see Merle and Daryl pulling out on their bikes. They’d offered no explanation other than to gesture to Andrea that she should follow them. 

“He’s a Teeter?” Carol asked, leaning toward Andrea.

Andrea laughed to herself.

“Joe Teeter,” Andrea said. “To be exact. Some people call him Old Joe. Most people just call him Teeter.”

“Is he part of the club?” Carol asked.

“One of the originals,” Andrea said. “But he’s more than that.” 

“Why do I feel like you say that about everyone?” Carol asked.

Andrea laughed to herself. 

“Maybe because I do,” Andrea said, keeping her voice down. “The club is complicated, Carol. Don’t expect to understand it all in one day. Just—roll with it.” 

When Carol turned her attention back to Merle, Daryl, and the old man named Teeter, the old man was explaining something about a smoker that wasn’t working as it was supposed to. Someone else, whom Carol didn’t know, was going to take a look at it, but since he couldn’t come until later and business had been slow, Teeter had closed down the bar to go out back and tinker with the smoker himself.

“That’s fine,” Merle said. “Do what’cha gotta do, but’cha answer your damn phone.” 

“Can’t hear the damned thing,” Teeter responded.

“You gotta turn up the volume then,” Daryl said. 

“Gotta wear your damn hearin’ aids,” Merle added.

“The batteries are dead,” Teeter responded.

“How long they been dead for?” Merle asked.

Teeter gestured toward Andrea. 

“Since the last time she changed ‘em,” Teeter said. “You expect me to keep up with that? If Wilma was here—I never would’ve had to keep up with that.” 

“When’s the last time you changed his batteries?” Merle asked, looking at Andrea. Andrea shrugged her shoulders.

“I never have,” Andrea said fairly quietly. “He’s never asked me to.”

“To hell I haven’t,” Teeter said. “You used to be better about keepin’ up with things. You get so—you get so wrapped up. You keep forgetting to do what I ask you to do.” 

Merle looked at Andrea with the same confusion on his features that Carol felt. 

“Wilma,” Andrea said, basically breathing it out. 

Merle nodded and grunted his understanding. Carol wasn’t sure she understood, but she had a pretty good feeling that Teeter wasn’t scolding Andrea. He was scolding somebody named Wilma who—wife or old lady, if there was a difference—was no longer with them. 

Teeter’s scolding of Andrea was only half-hearted and then he simply stopped speaking. He stared, for a moment, at Andrea and then he looked back at Daryl like he hadn’t seen him and he hadn’t been speaking to him only moments before. 

“I was tryin’ to call you earlier today,” Teeter said. “Crockett was supposed to come an’ have a look at that cooker, but he ain’t showed up all day. I been tryin’ to fix it myself.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Yeah—I hear ya. I’ll look at it ‘fore I head back to the shop. Probably ain’t nothin’. Might just be outta gas.” 

“You think I wouldn’t think to check the gas, boy?” Teeter said.

“I know you would,” Daryl said. “I’ll just have a look at it for myself. Just to satisfy my own curiosity.”

“Teeter—why don’t’cha go tinker a bit more with that smoker,” Merle said. “Bring in some ribs to defrost for tonight? Them mushrooms too that’cha make. Feed ever’body good after court.” 

Teeter agreed to making mushrooms and ribs and he disappeared out the back in the same way that he’d come into the bar. As soon as he was gone, Merle walked over to the bar and put down a pack of cigarettes. He took a cigarette from the pack and lit it, looking Carol up and down as he did.

“You must be this Carol I heard about,” Merle said. “And the girl’s—Sophia?” 

Carol nodded.

Merle leaned down in Sophia’s direction. She was standing just behind Carol.

“You like Pacman?” Merle asked. 

“What?” Sophia asked.

“Game,” Merle said. “You wanna play a game?” 

Sophia’s eyes lit up and she nodded her head. 

“You don’t have...” 

Before Carol could even finish forming the words, she felt Andrea squeeze her shoulder roughly. It reminded Carol of Andrea’s mantra—she didn’t have to do anything that she didn’t want to do. Perhaps Merle didn’t have to do anything that he didn’t want to do either. 

Merle ignored the start to Carol’s words and reached in his pocket. He thumbed around and passed several pieces of pocket change to Andrea.

“Get her set up? Gimme a chance to talk a second with Carol,” Merle said. 

Andrea took Sophia to the corner where there was a Pacman machine. Apparently bikers liked Pacman right along with the pool they clearly shot. Carol had to admit that she was a little amused by the fact, but she wasn’t going to say anything. She felt like she put her foot in her mouth every time she opened it.

“What kinda job, exactly, were you hopin’ for?” Merle asked. “There ain’t a whole lot open in Liberty right now. Just kinda one of them places where people get a job damn near as a kid an’ they get stuck in it. Sometimes the same person’s workin’ a job ‘til they die.” 

“Like your friend?” Carol asked.

Daryl hummed.

“Like Teeter,” Daryl said. “But Teeter ain’t always worked here. He’s worked here a long time—damn long time—but he ain’t worked here his whole life.”

“I don’t have a preference for a job,” Carol said. “I’ll be honest—I just need a way to make money. I’d like it to be a legal way to make money, but other than that...I don’t care if it’s scrubbing toilets. I need to provide for my daughter.” 

Merle laughed to himself. He looked at Daryl.

“She wants a legal way to make money,” Merle said. He looked back at Carol. “You think we’re hustlin’ hookers or some shit like that? Andrea—you a hooker?” 

Andrea laughed as she came walking over. She’d left Sophia learning how to play Pacman at the machine with a stack of quarters.

“Only for you, Merle,” Andrea said. 

“Je-sus!” Daryl said. “Don’t even bring that shit in here. It’s too damn early in the day an’ I ain’t even had a drink yet to numb me to it.” 

Merle chuckled.

“We’re law abiding citizens,” Merle said to Carol. “And you won’t hear no different. As long as legal’s all the hell you’re lookin’ for then I got a job for you. Pay’s minimum wage. There’s tips and room for promotion. Overtime. Possibility for side gigs.”

“Benefits?” Andrea asked.

“Could be,” Merle said. “Long as we could—be at least a lil’ bit flexible with how we definin’ perfectly legal.” 

Carol swallowed, her stomach churned a little. 

“I’m a little flexible,” she ventured.

Merle smiled at her.

“I bet you are,” he mused. “I bet you are. You might just limber up a whole lot more here, too.”

“What do you have in mind, Merle?” Andrea asked. “What’s the job?” 

“We been in need of a house mouse for a good long time,” Merle said. “Since—what was her name? Shelly? Since she moved on. We could use a house mouse.”

“That weren’t what we talked about,” Daryl said quickly.

“What’s a house mouse?” Carol asked.

“House mouse keeps the club’s house clean,” Merle said. “That would be this here place. The Chambers. House mouse also takes care of whatever the hell it is the club needs takin’ care of. Takes care of the members’ needs.” 

“Hell no,” Daryl said. “That’d be takin’ advantage! She just come in her desperate for some kinda job an’ you give her some damn degradin’ shit like that. That shit’s why the hell she said she ain’t wantin’ nothin’ illegal.” 

“Ain’t nothin’ illegal about it,” Merle said. He laughed to himself. “Damn brother, calm the fuck down. I don’t mean she’s gonna be no traditional ass house mouse. I just meant it in name. You wanna hear about the job or you don’t? ‘Cause my brother here was just gonna have you secretatin’ at the shop, but that ain’t really what we need you for.”

Carol wasn’t even sure what to think. Something had stirred Daryl up, and she assumed it was the fact that those job duties sounded like they could easily cross a line that Carol wasn’t comfortable crossing, but she wasn’t sure why Daryl should be so personally offended that she’d been offered the job even if it was of a questionable nature. Still, she was desperate for employment and she was willing to hear what Merle had to say. If nothing else, maybe he’d give her the secretarial position just for entertaining him and being a good sport.

“What would you want me to do as your...house mouse?” Carol asked.

Merle grinned at her. 

“The Chambers is a bar,” Merle said. “It’s a fully functionin’ bar. Only time it ain’t open is durin’ sleepin’ hours when nobody oughta be out drinkin’. It’s also a restaurant. We don’t serve a lot, but we serve some damn good barbecue durin’ lunch and dinner hours. Teeter’s been handlin’ everything here for years. He still cooks some damn good barbecue, but we don’t make shit anymore ‘cause he sucks at customer service. People’ll come in durin’ lunch hours an’ be lined up just about down the highway out there—but Teeter’ll forget he’s got to serve ‘em.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“He’s run ‘em outta here once or twice sayin’ they was trespassin’,” Daryl offered.

“You’d keep the place clean. Clean the tables. Serve the food and drinks. Help Teeter out while he does what the he does best—cook the shit outta some food good enough to give you coronary disease,” Merle said.

“That’s it?” Carol asked.

“You’d make minimum wage,” Merle said. “Keep your own tips. You’d do a couple side gigs, too, with us. Just when you got time or it’s slow here an’ we can drag you away from the bar. Shit like—pickin’ up parts for us or...makin’ calls if we need it. Side stuff at the shop. We got insurance out at the shop. We’ll put you on the payroll out there an’ then you can have the benefits. He snubbed out the spent butt of his cigarette and helped himself to another before he offered the pack to Daryl. “What’cha say, sweet cheeks? You lookin’ to be a house mouse or you ain’t?”

“Nothing illegal,” Carol said. “At least—nothing too illegal?” 

Merle laughed. 

“I like you. Like the way you think. Nothin’ too illegal,” Merle said. He dragged his finger across his chest in an X. “You got my word.” 

“And no sex,” Carol said. 

“Hell, sugar, if that’s how you wanna be,” Merle said. “But I ain’t puttin’ it in your contract that’cha can’t get you a piece of ass if you got you a mind to have it. Just don’t seem right to me. A woman’s body’s hers to do with as she pleases an’ all that shit, ain’t that right Andrea?” 

“He’s being an asshole,” Andrea said. “But no—it’s not part of the job description. Asshole or not, he’d never make that a job requirement. He’s just giving you a hard time.” 

“I can handle a hard time,” Carol said. “And I want the job. The only problem is—I’ve got to have childcare. I’ve got to get Sophia in school, but I’ll need someone to watch her after school. I don’t know anybody here.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Daryl said. “We got that covered already. Just got a call to make.” 

“You want the job?” Merle asked.

Carol took a second to consider it. It wasn’t like she had any other options, though. She nodded her head.

“I want the job,” she said. 

Merle smiled and offered out his hand to shake. Carol put her hand in his and he squeezed her hand before giving it a firm shake.

“Welcome to the Judges’ Chambers, Mouse,” Merle said.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I’ve mentioned before that characters may be at least a little OOC. Please note that I’m going back to earlier seasons when Daryl had a vocabulary and the ability to string sentences together. He’s not a constant grunter in this fic. I hope that’s not a problem for anyone.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“A house mouse is—well, she’s basically an in-house whore,” Daryl said. He looked a little ashamed to be saying the words to Carol, but she’d heard far worse in her life, and many times it was being directed at her and not just used to explain something. “She cleans up. Serves drinks. But basically she does whatever it is that any club member asks her to do.”

“That’s not what Merle wants from me, though,” Carol said. “He’s just using the title.” 

“Damn degradin’ title,” Daryl said. “You don’t know Merle. Gets a kick outta that shit. Seeing if he can get a rise out of someone.”

“And he gets one out of you,” Carol said.

Daryl hummed at her in question and burrowed around in his shirt pocket in search of his cigarettes. 

Andrea had left Carol behind in Daryl’s care, for a few moments, to drive Teeter into town for some things that he was insisting he needed immediately. Merle had gone off somewhere on his bike, and he’d told Carol to wait at the bar for him until he got back. To save Sophia from having to spend her whole day cooped up inside, Carol had taken her daughter outside to play in the parking lot and the grassy area surrounding it. 

Daryl was keeping Carol company while she waited for the return of his brother and Carol’s new boss. 

“He got what he wanted,” Carol said. “He got a rise out of you.” 

“He just don’t know you to give you that kinda hard time,” Daryl said. “That’s all. You smoke?” He offered her the pack of cigarettes and she shook her head. 

“Sometimes I do,” Carol said. “But no thank you. And I don’t mind the title. It kind of makes me feel official. Strangely enough, it makes me feel like I have a role to play. Like I have a place here. Everyone seems to have a title. Now I’ve got one.” 

“Damn degradin’ title,” Daryl mused again.

“It depends on your perspective,” Carol said. “You see it as a bad thing. I see it as a good thing. Maybe neither one of us is completely wrong and neither one of us is completely right.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Glass half full kinda person?” He asked.

“Doesn’t matter if the glass is half empty or half full,” Carol said. “If you’re thirsty, you drink it. I’m pretty thirsty these days.” 

“You—wanna talk about it?” Daryl asked.

Carol smiled to herself. It was a sincere offer, even if it had been stammered out. Daryl scuffed the bottom of his boot across the grass where he was standing a few feet away from her and turned his head to look at her. 

He was handsome in his own way. He was completely unlike her hopefully soon-to-be-ex-husband, though that wasn’t a bad thing at all. And he was offering to listen to her problems if only she wanted to stand there and recite them while her daughter played some short distance away building something out of some small white stones she’d found. 

Carol shook her head. 

“No,” she said, offering him a soft smile. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now. But I appreciate the offer.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Yeah—whatever. I mean—still stands or whatever. If you want. If you change your mind.” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“Tell me about the club,” Carol said. 

“What the hell is there to tell?” Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders. 

“There’s a lot,” Carol said. “At least as far as I can tell. It seems like Andrea’s probably told me a thousand things about it since last night.”

“Then she mighta covered damn near everything,” Daryl offered.

“Who’s Teeter?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You met him,” Daryl said. “Or is your memory bad as his?” 

“I mean—who is he?” Carol asked. 

“He’s a brother,” Daryl said. 

“Your brother?” Carol asked.

“Brother—like a club brother,” Daryl said. “Not like Merle. Not like my brother brother. Not like we shared a Ma.” 

“A club brother,” Carol said. Daryl nodded his head. “I’m going to say this and I’m going to start it off by saying that I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth, but he doesn’t seem like my idea of a biker.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“Hell—I guess he ain’t no more,” Daryl said. “Not much of a biker these days. Fuckin’ Teeter’s been around since I can even remember. Don’t know that I recall a single damn minute in my life that Teeter weren’t one of the Judges in this town.” 

Daryl smiled to himself. He pointed toward the bike that was parked out front with the sidecar attached to it. 

“That there’s a 1970,” Daryl said. “Teeter’s had that damn thing for as long as I can remember. Was one of the first bikes I ever wanted. Used to be a pretty teal color. It’s been about twelve years now since Teeter laid her down. Accident damn near killed him. He was alone, too. Was just him involved. Laid her down on the highway out there comin’ back from Union one night an’ when he was gettin’ all patched up an’ we didn’t know if he was gonna make it or not—well, that’s when a bunch of us pitched in on the bike. We just took it on as a side project at the shop. Put it back together. Painted it black. Chipped in on that sidecar.”

“You care about him,” Carol pointed out.

“He’s a brother,” Daryl said. 

“Why the sidecar?” Carol asked.

“Hell—all we could figure was Teeter prob’ly laid the bike down ‘cause he was havin’ a hard time holdin’ it up. Back then the club had a rule that if you couldn’t ride, you couldn’t be part of the club. You sorta retired out. We got rid of that shit. Changed it to the rule that you couldn’t hold an office if you couldn’t ride, but you could be in the club ‘til they laid your old ass in the ground. Still—there’s brothers that don’t wanna go on livin’ if they can’t ride. There’s bikers that love their bike more’n they love their Old Lady. Teeter was damn near one of ‘em—though I don’t suppose he loves that bike any more’n he ever loved Wilma.” 

“The sidecar helps him ride?” Carol asked. 

The way that Daryl was looking at the bike, Carol could tell that his senses were being assaulted by something. Maybe it was memories. Whatever it was, it was clear that he hadn’t meant to lose his train of thought, but whatever was going on inside his head was moving at a staggering speed and it had gotten the best of him for a second. 

Daryl jerked his head in Carol’s direction and she saw the exact moment that he broke with his memories. His eyes went wide with surprise. He hadn’t expected to get lost and he was surprised to be back. He covered it over quickly with a sheepish smile. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah—keeps his balance. That thing’s almost safe as a tricycle now.”

“Wilma was his wife?” Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself.

“Of his whole damn life,” Daryl said. “Can you imagine that? They married when she was—I believe Teeter said she was fourteen. He weren’t but sixteen or seventeen. I mean—they just up an’ married way back then. Didn’t nobody say nothin’ back then because, you know...”

“That wasn’t unusual,” Carol offered.

Daryl shook his head. 

“I married Ed when I was eighteen,” Carol offered. “But we’d dated before that.” 

“Your husband?” Daryl asked.

“Soon to be ex-husband,” Carol said. “But—yeah.”

“Difference is that Teeter didn’t beat on Wilma,” Daryl said. “Not once. Never took a hand to her. Judges don’t do that. Goes against the code.” 

“The code?” Carol asked.

“Code of conduct,” Daryl said. “We got laws and it’s by them laws that we live our lives. Anybody that joins the club’s gotta agree to them laws. They gotta promise they gonna live by ‘em. They don’t live by ‘em then they outta the club.” 

“And you have a law specifically about hitting your wives?” Carol asked. 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“Hittin’ your Old Lady’s at the top of the don’t-fuckin’-do-it list for a Judge,” Daryl said. “But—hittin’ any woman. Unless you got good reason, of course.” 

Carol felt a violent shiver run through her. She couldn’t control it. Daryl stared at her. 

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asked. “You cold? You comin’ down with somethin’ from the rain last night?” 

It was too warm to be cold. It was also too warm to have gotten sick from spending a little time dripping in rainwater the night before. Carol shook her head.

“I guess it was just what you said,” Carol said. “It got to me, that’s all.” 

“What’d I say?” Daryl asked.

“About—about you don’t hit a woman,” Carol said. Daryl made a face at her. He clearly didn’t understand what she was talking about and she really couldn’t blame him for not being able to read her mind. “You said that you don’t hit women. Judges don’t hit women.” 

“We don’t,” Daryl confirmed quickly.

“Unless you’ve got a good reason, of course,” Carol said.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“You said—unless you’ve got a good reason,” Carol said. “Then it’s OK to hit a woman.” 

“Well, yeah,” Daryl responded quickly. “I mean if you got a good reason...”

“My husband had what he would call a good reason for every single time he put his hands on me,” Carol said. 

Daryl blanched as white as a cotton sheet and shook his head at Carol quickly.

“That weren’t what I meant,” he said. 

“Then what did you mean?” Carol asked. “What falls under a good reason?” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You don’t know the kinda women some brothers can sometimes drag up,” Daryl said. “Strung out on some shit or another sometimes. Violent themselves an’ ready to beat the shit outta you for no reason. Tryin’ to scratch your fuckin’ skin off because they’re hallucinatin’. Sometimes you don’t wanna, but you gotta fight back. Knockin’ her out or gettin’ her down so you can get a good hold on her ain’t no nice thing to do, but it’s a helluva lot better’n lettin’ her kill herself or somebody else. Helluva lot better’n lettin’ her end up in prison ‘cause she done some crazy shit while she was out her mind. Listen—I weren’t talkin’ about she back talked you or some shit. I weren’t sayin’ that was no good reason. I’m just sayin’—sometimes there’s things that you can’t avoid.” 

“If you hit a woman with a reason,” Carol asked, “are you out of the club?” 

“Depends on the reason,” Daryl offered. 

“How do you decide who’s out of the club?” Carol asked.

“Same way we decide who’s in the club,” Daryl said. “We take it to court.” 

“What else happens in court?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You’re full of questions,” he said. 

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Carol said.

“I thought you were plannin’ on stayin’ around for a bit,” Daryl said.

“I am,” Carol said. “At least, I think I am. I have a job. Eventually I’ll have a place to stay.” 

“Then you got time,” Daryl said. “Don’t gotta ask every question you can think of ‘fore Andrea gets back with Teeter’s grocery run.” 

Carol nodded her head at him. She understood. She could hear what he was saying without him having to put words to it. He was tired of her questions for right now. There would be time for her to learn everything that he’d probably spent most of his life simply knowing.

“It’s just that I’m going to be the house mouse,” Carol said. “And I feel like—that means I ought to know the tomcats.” 

Daryl laughed.

“Oh—believe you me, you gonna get to know ‘em. God bless you, too, when you do,” Daryl commented.

“One more question,” Carol said, holding her finger up. Daryl nodded his head and she quickly put her second finger up and smiled at him when he made a face at her. “Two. Just two more.” 

“OK,” Daryl ceded. “But—I’ma keep track of all these questions you’re askin’ and you’re gonna owe me one day. I get to ask some of my own.” 

“It’s a deal,” Carol agreed. “Just—not right now. Not today, OK?”

“Then when?” Daryl asked.

“Let me get settled in?” Carol asked. 

Daryl nodded his agreement.

“Go ahead,” he said. “What’s your two questions?” 

“Is it Alzheimer’s?” Carol asked. “Dementia? Whatever it is that’s messing with Teeter’s mind and making him think...doesn’t he think Andrea is Wilma?” 

Daryl chewed his lip.

“I don’t suppose it matters what the hell it is,” Daryl said. “His mind don’t work like it used to work. His memory—it ain’t all there. I don’t know that it matters what the hell it is. Sometimes he thinks Andrea’s Wilma. Sometimes he’s prob’ly gonna think you’re Wilma. It don’t matter who she is—any woman’s bound to be Wilma. Teeter just walks around kinda lookin’ for her. I guess he’s gettin’ to the point where he can find her damn near anywhere if he looks hard enough.”

Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat. After her experiences with Ed, she really couldn’t imagine having a husband who would look for her after her death because he cared about her. 

“What was your other question?” Daryl asked. 

“What?” Carol asked, coming out of her thoughts.

“Your second question,” Daryl asked. “What was your second question?”

“Oh,” Carol said. “Oh—I forgot, actually.” 

“Then I got one for you,” Daryl said. 

Carol sucked in a breath and let it out and Daryl laughed. He held his hands up. 

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I hear you loud an’ clear. It ain’t no kinda question about your Old Man or nothin’, really, about your life before right now.” 

“What is it?” Carol asked.

“Sophia,” Daryl said, gesturing toward the little girl that was as happy as she could be getting as dirty as she possibly could get in one patch of grass, “what’s some of her favorite things to eat and drink? We don’t got a lotta kid friendly stuff around the Chambers. I was gonna pick her up a couple things. Figure it’s the least we can do if you’re gonna be here an’ all. Make her feel welcome an’ all.” He held up his hand as Carol started to open her mouth. “Before you even say it, Andrea warned me. And don’t nobody make me do shit that I don’t wanna do.”


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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It was Carol’s first night at her new job, but instead of working she was sitting outside in the parking lot with Andrea and warning Sophia at intervals not to touch any of the bikes that were parked in the parking lot. 

Nobody except patches and prospects were allowed inside during court. Merle had made sure that Carol understood that those were the rules and she shouldn’t take her banishment to the parking lot personally. 

Carol didn’t take it personally. She could follow whatever rules were laid out for her as long as they caused no harm to her or Sophia. Although the sky was a little cloudy, it wasn’t raining like it had been the night before and it wasn’t a horrible night to sit on the porch of the Chambers in Andrea’s company. 

“Where are all the other old ladies?” Carol asked.

“What?” Andrea asked.

“The other old ladies,” Carol said. “There’s about a dozen patches and prospects in there. Where are the other old ladies? Or are you the only one?” 

Andrea laughed to herself.

“I’m not the only one, but there aren’t tons of us. Most of the members are single.”

“Why?” Carol asked.

“A quick fuck is an easy thing to come by for a Judge,” Andrea said. “You’ll see the groupies. They’ll come soon enough. There are Judges all around. Different chapters outside of Liberty. There are other MCs, too, in the area. Some women get off on the MCs. They love the idea of being with a patch. It’s even better to them if he holds an office. Maybe it’s just for the thrill of the one-time thing or maybe they’ve got dreams of being an old lady someday. They’ll jump from clubhouse to clubhouse sometimes like mosquitos out for blood. The thing is that most of them really aren’t old lady material. It’s really kind of sad, too. Even if they’re nice to them and treat them right, most members don’t really respect the groupies.”

“You said you weren’t a groupie,” Carol said.

“I wasn’t,” Andrea confirmed. 

“How did you end up with Merle?” Carol asked.

Andrea hummed.

“That’s practically a piece of history by now,” Andrea mused. “That’s a long story. It’s enough to say that there was something in Merle that I loved. I guess he saw something in me that he was pretty fond of as well.”

Carol was just about to try to pry more of the story out of Andrea when the front door opened. It was Merle who stood in the doorway. 

“Court’s over and everybody’s thirsty, Mouse,” Merle said. “How’s about you helpin’ Teeter get a couple beers circlin’ round the barroom? Everybody gets a tab for the night, but every tab’s squared away ‘fore they leave. Keys is in the lockbox behind the bar. Nobody don’t get no keys that ain’t able to ride an’ they don’t get no keys if they ain’t paid their tab. The Chambers ain’t no charity run by yours truly.” 

Carol got to her feet quickly to do as Merle requested. 

“Sophia,” she called.

“She’s fine,” Andrea assured her. “I’ll bring her in when I come inside in a few minutes.” 

Carol quickly started inside, but when she tried to pass by him, Merle reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Carol looked at him, waiting for him to say what was on his mind.

“You work here,” Merle said, “but that don’t mean you always gotta jump. I expect you to do your job, but remember that you don’t gotta follow every order that gets barked at’cha.”

“Just the ones that sound right,” Carol said with a nod. “And everyone knows that thirsty customers at a bar isn’t good business. It’s the customers with full glasses that fill the tip jar.” 

Merle chuckled and squeezed Carol’s arm before he let go of her. 

“You gonna do alright, Mouse,” Merle said.

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Carol thought that Merle might be right. She was going to do alright. 

She’d been working at the bar a couple of hours with no more clientele than the Judges and a few people who had stumbled in off the street for a drink or two and her tip jar was already looking to be rather full. 

She reminded herself to keep a smile on her face and she made her way from one table to another refilling glasses and pitchers and offering shots to those who were drinking, smoking, and otherwise entertaining themselves and their friends. She made sure to pay attention, too, to those who entertained themselves with the pool table and the others who held down the Pacman and electronic Poker games in the corner. 

In the back, Teeter cooked burgers and fries and just about anything else that could be deep fried upon request. He was slow about getting the plates of food out, but nobody complained about the time it took for their treats to arrive as Carol passed them what they’d been waiting for and offered them things like extra napkins and some ketchup to drown their artery-clogging dinners.

Carol tried to take in everything she could about the people surrounding her. She was the new house mouse and, as such, she felt like she had a certain responsibility to get to know the club and its members. She had a certain duty to learn who they were, what they liked, and what made them tick. She was their caretaker, after all, and she owed them a certain level of care and loyalty.

The easiest observation that Carol could make was that the Judges came in every shape, size, and age. Each of them wore a leather or denim vest and on the back of it there were the scales of justice. Around the scales, there were emblems that declared them to be Judges and identified their home as Liberty. The only exception to this rule that Carol could see was that there were two men whose vests were bare except for one patch that declared them each to be a “Prospect.” 

Carol knew that prospects weren’t full members, but she treated them the same. They had money and they had the means to tip her just the same as anyone with what Daryl had called a full patch.

The second observation that Carol made was that many of the Judges seemed loud. They laughed loudly, talked loudly, and almost communicated with one another in shouts to carry over the din created by everyone else feeling the need to speak to each other with the most booming voices they had. Every Judge she spoke to, as well, seemed to be in possession of two to ten different names that they cycled through depending on who was speaking to them at any given moment. 

Carol didn’t know how long it would take for her to learn everyone, or how long it would take for her to keep them straight, but she was already certain that she’d need Andrea to sit down and help her compile a list to study.

People seemed to pass in and out of the bar constantly. Nobody requested their keys, though, so Carol assumed that none of them were actually leaving the area. Most of them seemed to just be stretching their legs and the parking lot was as popular for congregating on the clear night as the barroom was. Carol kept an eye on Andrea who was watching Sophia, but other than that she let people come and go as they pleased. Andrea, too, came and went, but Carol soon discovered that Andrea was going no further than the parking lot and she was keeping Sophia no more than two arm-lengths of distance away from her at any given time. 

Sophia, constantly receiving attention from the members of the club, seemed to be not at all bothered by the Judges. In fact, Carol had a pretty good idea that she was going to be fond of the men who treated her like she was the most interesting thing that they’d ever seen and offered her French fries and fried mushrooms nearly every time she neared one of them. 

“Can we get a couple beers? Light?” Alice asked, coming up to the bar while Carol was busy wiping dry a few glasses that she’d washed in the back. 

Carol smiled at her. It was very different to see her in the bar than it was to see her in the hospital. Carol wasn’t sure she would have recognized her if she hadn’t expected to see her there. 

“How many?” Carol asked. 

“Just two,” Alice said. “One for me and the VP.” 

“VP?” Carol asked.

“Vice President,” Alice said. She gestured toward one of the tables where Daryl sat alone. He was staring off toward the pool table like he had some interest in the pick-up game that was being played at the moment. From what Carol could tell, his brother was cleaning up at the game. 

“Daryl,” Carol said. “Of course. He’s the Vice President. I knew that. I guess I just didn’t think about—VP.” 

“First night as the new house mouse,” Alice mused. “I get it if you’re nervous. Don’t be. I can promise you that nobody here’s gonna bite.”

“I’m not nervous because of that,” Carol said. “I’m nervous because—I need this to work out, you know? I need this new start. I don’t want to do anything to mess it up.” 

“Then don’t let your anxiety be what does you in,” Alice said. “Despite what the hell our name might suggest, I think you’ll find that we’re some of the least judgmental people you’ll ever meet. Nobody’s going to hold something inconsequential against you. You can relax.” She winked at Carol as she took the two beers that Carol offered in her direction. “Thanks for the beer, beautiful.”

Carol watched her as she carried the beer over to the table where Daryl sat. He looked at Alice when she slipped into her seat and he cast a glance at Carol. When Carol saw him looking at her, she smiled at him. He lifted the glass and made something of a faux toast in her direction before he tasted the beer. Then he turned his attention to a conversation he was having with Alice. It looked like they’d abandoned it before and were able to simply pick it back up where they’d left off. 

Carol added their drinks to Alice’s tab and wiped down the bar. Glancing back in their direction, she could see that Daryl was laughing at something Alice said as Alice leaned on her elbow and talked. He was completely consumed with whatever she was saying. Carol’s stomach did an odd sort of flip that she wouldn’t have begun to try to explain.

Andrea had said that Alice’s membership in the club was complicated. She’d suggested that Daryl might be a good one to explain it. Carol thought it was pretty self-explanatory. She was Daryl’s old lady and, clearly, she’d wanted to be a patch. Daryl had made that happen. It wasn’t complicated at all. Not in Carol’s opinion. And it was good, too. Daryl seemed like a nice guy and every time he glanced toward the bar or looked away from Alice, there was a smile on his face that carried over from their conversation. Good guys like Daryl deserved old ladies that put that kind of smile on their face that simply lingered.

“Hey—Mouse—how ‘bout another round?” One of the members called out. Carol wasn’t sure what his name was, but she remembered it being something ridiculous. He was a huge man and it was something that poked fun at his size. Maybe he was Shrimp or something equally ridiculous. 

“Was that light?” Carol called back.

“Full beer,” he said. He laughed to himself. “I know you ain’t blind, Mouse. You gotta know I don’t fuck with that light shit. What about them onion rings?” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I’ll go check on Teeter,” she said, already bringing him his beer. She passed it to him. “I’ll make sure he hasn’t forgotten that he had onion rings coming up. I’m sorry. Remind me once more of your name?” 

The man smiled at her. 

“Big Tiny,” he said. “And while you’re back there—how about check on them chicken wings for my brother here.”

“Axel, ma’am,” the other man offered.

Carol smiled at him. 

“Chicken wings and onion rings,” Carol said. “Coming up if I have to fry them myself. You boys just don’t go anywhere.”

Carol laughed to herself when she heard Big Tiny’s deep chuckle.

“You the keeper of the keys, Mouse, I don’t suppose we’re goin’ nowhere,” he assured her. “Not without your permission.”

Carol started toward the back to check on Teeter, mentally making a note of several drinks she needed to refresh on her way back out to the floor. 

Merle Dixon was right, and Carol could feel it. She’d get the hang of it soon enough. She’d learn the club like it was her own. She’d do alright here. 

She’d be the best damn house mouse that the Judges had ever known.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“You don’t have to stay,” Carol offered for probably the sixth time.

“So you been tellin’ me,” Daryl commented.

“I’ve still got to sweep and take out the garbage,” Carol said. 

Daryl didn’t verbally respond in any way, but he got up from the stool he’d been holding down since Carol had seen the last biker out the door—Teeter already sent home safely in Andrea’s care, along with Sophia whom Andrea would put to bed—and had started wiping down tables. Daryl hadn’t said much in response to her since the first time that he’d answered her to say that she’d need a way back to Andrea’s and he wasn’t leaving her at the bar alone. She felt bad, though, about anyone having to wait around for her. As soon as her car was fixed and she could afford to put some insurance on it, she was sure she could convince everyone that she was fine taking care of herself and she had no reason to be an inconvenience to any of them. 

Daryl finally left the barroom, though, and Carol thought that maybe he’d finally listened to her. Her stomach churned at the thought. She didn’t want to be an inconvenience to anyone, but she honestly didn’t know how she would get back to Andrea’s house. She had no means of transportation and she wasn’t even sure she remembered exactly where it was that Andrea lived.

Daryl returned a few minutes later, though, and relieved Carol’s concerns about how she was going to get back to her daughter. 

“Trash is out,” he said. 

“I didn’t mean for you to do that,” Carol said.

“Wish you’d let me do more,” Daryl said. “Insistin’ I sit here like a damn bump on a log has me feelin’ like I got ants crawlin’ around inside my skin. Years I been stayin’ late to close with Teeter and he ain’t once just suggested I sit on my ass.” 

Carol laughed to herself. As Daryl closed the gap between them, Carol wrung out a rag from her bucket and tossed it in his direction. He laughed when he caught it. 

“If it’s going to keep you from sitting there feeling sorry for yourself,” Carol said, “then you can wipe down the bar and those tables over there. I’ll get started on the floor.”

“I can push dirt around with a broom pretty good too,” Daryl pointed out, taking his rag to go and do just what Carol had suggested he might.

“And how would your brother feel knowing that he’s paying me to do the work and you’re the one doing it?” Carol asked.

“Merle ain’t gonna give a shit that I pushed some damn dirt around the floor,” Daryl said. “Besides—he’s really payin’ you more to serve tables and shit. You hustled pretty good today. Done good. Place was a good bit livelier’n I seen it in years.” 

Carol smiled to herself.

“How hard can it be?” Carol asked. “Serve the food. Serve the drinks. Smile for the customers.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Well—whatever it is, you seem to have got the right combination of it,” Daryl said.

“I just hope the tip jar reflects it,” Carol said. “Andrea counted the register for me to do whatever she does for Merle, but she said the jar was mine.”

“You oughta count it,” Daryl said. “Hell—I dropped a couple damn bills in there. At least you know you cleared four or five dollars.” 

Daryl was teasing her. Just a glance at the jar told Carol that it was at least three-fourths of the way full. Even if all the folding money in the jar consisted of dollar bills, Carol had probably made at least fifty dollars. It wasn’t too bad, she thought, for a first night when she still didn’t know half her clientele’s names. 

Carol pushed the broom around the barroom floor in long motions, moving all the dirt, ashes, and dropped cigarette butts toward the door where she intended to push it all outside.

“Alice left kind of early tonight,” Carol said. 

“What?” Daryl asked.

“Alice,” Carol said. “That is her name, right? The doctor? The woman who’s—who’s part of the club?” 

“Alice,” Daryl echoed. “Yeah. Al. That’s her. What about her?” 

“She left kind of early,” Carol said. “Big day tomorrow?” 

“I don’t know,” Daryl said. “Every day’s an early day for Al. I swear it seems like she don’t never take a day off.” 

He laughed to himself and tossed the rag he’d been using back in the bucket that Carol would clean out before she left. He perched on his stool again and lit a cigarette, hovering it over one of the ashtrays that Carol had already wiped out. She thought of scolding him for threatening to make a mess again, but she thought better of it since he practically owned the bar.

“Hell,” Daryl said. “Don’t too damn many of us get days off. You know? Seems there’s always some shit that comes up. You gonna find that out. You want days off—you just gotta tell Merle you ain’t comin’ in. He’ll understand, but he ain’t gonna just up and think about it on his own.”

“Doesn’t Teeter take days off?” Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled.

“Teeter ain’t had a day on in like a decade,” Daryl mused. “But—he’s here ever’day if that’s what you mean. Been that way since he started workin’ here. Really it was Merle that gave him the job here to keep him from gettin’ hurt. Teeter used to be a welder. Made decent money that way. Travelled around a good bit. Prob’ly seen the better part of this country doin’ jobs with this company he got in with a long time back. He retired back when I was prob’ly no bigger’n your lil’ girl. But Teeter couldn’t hold still none. Had to keep workin’. That’s when he started workin’ down at Mac’s. Down at the shop. Started doin’ some—well, just some freelance work. When he started havin’ spells, though, that’s when Merle was sayin’ it was prob’ly better he didn’t do that. You know. Brought him up here to work like he had less a chance of burnin’ himself up with a grill than he did with a welder.”

“But he hasn’t,” Carol said.

“Well not yet, he ain’t,” Daryl responded. “We take what we call Teeter-Turns. Everybody’s got a couple. Run by and make sure he’s OK and there ain’t nothin’ burning. That room in the back, though—more times than not he’s asleep in there or asleep watchin’ that old T.V. back there. He forgets to cook more’n he remembers.”

“But now I’m here,” Carol said. “And I can keep an eye on him.” 

“Don’t think that didn’t have at least a little to do with Merle’s askin’ you to do the job,” Daryl said.

“I thought it might,” Carol said. 

“That bother you?” Daryl asked. “That part of your job might be havin’ to be a glorified babysitter to an old man that only knows who the hell he is a couple minutes a day?” 

“I’ve been asked to do worse things,” Carol said. 

“I bet you have,” Daryl mused. “Hey—you gonna tell me where you come from?” 

“I’m from Liberty,” Carol said. “Or at least I am now.” 

“You still playin’ that game, huh?” Daryl asked. 

Carol smiled to herself.

“I don’t want to look behind me,” Carol said. “There’s not a lot back there that I want to remember. When Sophia was born—but even that has its dark spots. I like the view in front of me a whole lot better.” 

“I gotta say, it worries me about where you come from if you’re thinkin’ that Liberty is some kinda great place,” Daryl said. 

“Angleeville,” Carol said.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“Angleeville,” Carol said. “You want to know where I’m from. I was born in Angleeville, North Carolina.”

“You drove that junker all the way here from North Carolina?” Daryl asked.

“I was born in Angleeville,” Carol said. “We left there when I was eleven. We moved to South Carolina for two years and when I was fourteen, we moved to Georgia.”

“So where in Georgia was it you run from?” Daryl asked. 

“Your turn,” Carol said. 

“Fuck—I got jack shit to offer you. I was borned here. I’ma live my whole life here and then they gonna bury me in a cardboard box in the cemetery out there on East Creek Road that’s run by the county. At least that’s probably how the hell it’ll happen.” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“The club,” Carol said. “Did Merle start it? Is that why he’s president?” 

“What?” Daryl asked.

“Do you have some kind of hearing problem that I should be aware of?” Carol asked.

“Probably half deaf,” Daryl said. “But I just mean what the hell you mean?” 

“Is Merle the president of the club because he started the club?” Carol asked, drawing her words out. 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Bitch,” he muttered. Carol smiled to herself. She wasn’t sure that she’d ever felt that word, particularly when it was growled at her, to be a sign of affection, but it felt that way. “Merle’s the president ‘cause he was voted into the office. Same as me being the vice president. There’s been Judges around since the fifties. Teeter was among the originals. That’s all the hell I know.”

“How long have you been in it?” Carol asked.

“Where in Georgia did you run from?” Daryl asked.

“Pass,” Carol said. “How long have you been in the club?” 

“Since I was sixteen,” Daryl said. “Started as a Prospect then. I was around the club before that, though, ‘cause of Merle. Did odd jobs for ‘em. Got myself known by everyone. What’d you say your husband’s name was?” 

“I’m not sure I did,” Carol said. “I don’t think it matters. He’s my soon-to-be ex-husband as soon as your sister-in-law has anything to do with it.” 

“My what?” Daryl asked with a laugh.

“Sister-in-law,” Carol said. “Andrea?” 

“No, I know who the hell you talkin’ about,” Daryl said. “But she and Merle ain’t married. He ain’t gathered up the courage to make no honest woman out of her.”

“Scared of commitment?” Carol asked.

Daryl sucked his teeth, considering the question, and lit another cigarette. He held the pack out in Carol’s direction. Even though she wasn’t exactly craving a cigarette, she decided to join him for the social act of smoking. She leaned the broom against the wall closest to where she was and crossed the bar. Daryl lit her cigarette for her and she sat down on the stool next to her. As soon as she was seated, Daryl propped his foot back on the rung of her stool where he’d had it resting before he moved it for her to sit. 

“Ain’t that,” Daryl said. “At least—it ain’t exactly that. Merle likes the idea of commitment. There’s some whole El Dorado shit that he likes to spew about the quest for the perfect pussy or whatever. For as long as he’s been with Andrea, I’m guessin’ he thinks hers is damn near dipped in twenty-four carat gold.” Daryl rolled his eyes toward Carol and then dropped them again, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I’ve heard a lot worse. And I don’t just mean tonight.”

“Anyway—he don’t got a problem with forever or whatever. His problem is more with the marriage part of it all.”

“Why’s that?” Carol asked.

Daryl looked at her and held her eyes. A smile barely turned the corner of his mouth upward and Carol felt a strange flutter in her stomach that made her heartbeat kick up a little faster. She couldn’t explain it, but the feeling that ran through her wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

Daryl had a nice smile. 

If it weren’t so late, she almost felt like she could sit on that bar stool and talk to him for hours just to see how often she could get that smile from him.

“You ain’t the only one’s got stories you ain’t told,” Daryl said. “And you don’t get all my stories—or all of Merle’s—for somethin’ as sorry as tellin’ me you was born in a town that you ain’t lived in since you was haired over.”

Carol laughed to herself. 

“Fair enough,” she said. “What about you? Are you scared of commitment or marriage or whatever?”

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. 

“Maybe,” he said.

“For the same reason as Merle?” Carol asked.

“If I am, I’d guess that’s why,” Daryl said. “You a shrink now?” 

“Is that why you’re not married to Alice?” Carol asked.

Daryl stared at her. He laughed to himself and shook his head like he was negating something a voice that only he could hear might have said. In the same way he’d responded to her several times that night—something that had made Carol worry about his hearing but now just made her think he’d adopted it as a sort of defense mechanism to buy himself more time to think—Daryl cleared his throat and asked her the question that she’d come to expect from him before any answer could actually be given to her inquiries.

“What?”


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“Why the hell would I marry Alice?” Daryl asked.

Carol was a little taken aback at how genuinely surprised he seemed that she would make such a suggestion. She laughed nervously to herself, hoping that calling attention to their relationship didn’t embarrass Daryl enough that she needed to somehow make amends for a transgression that she never meant to commit. 

“I saw you sitting together tonight,” Carol said. “Talking. Laughing. Having drinks.” 

“And?” Daryl asked.

Carol’s stomach tightened. She shrugged her shoulders.

“I could see how close you are,” Carol said.

“Close,” Daryl said. “Yeah—we’re close. She’s like my sister. And I don’t know about how it works for you, but I never was the kind that considered it OK to marry your siblings.”

Carol laughed to herself. She nodded her head. 

“I guess I misunderstood,” she said. “I just assumed...”

“You know what the hell they say about assuming,” Daryl offered.

“I do,” Carol ceded. “She’s just your—sister?” 

Daryl nodded his head. 

“She ain’t really my sister,” Daryl said. “Not by blood or nothing. I mean—I’ve known Al since she was all scraped knees an’ elbows. She joined the Judges just a few years ago. It was this whole big thing about if they was gonna let a woman in the club as a member but—in the end, Alice won out. Of course there weren’t no real good reason not to let her join. After every damn thing she’s done for the club...an’ if we’re sayin’ that we got principles then we gotta stick by ‘em even if that means changin’ some kinda preconceived notion of the way things oughta be.”

“What did she do to get into the club?” Carol asked.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“What did she do? For the club?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. He turned the ashtray around in a circle and tapped his fingertip on the bar before he looked at Carol and raised his eyebrows. He was choosing to pass on her question. Instead, he tossed her a question of his own.

“What about you? Brothers and sisters?” He asked.

“Not anymore,” Carol said.

“Not anymore?” Daryl asked.

“I had a sister,” Carol said. “Her name was Grace. She was two years older than me. She passed when I was eighteen.”

Daryl frowned at her. 

“Sorry,” Daryl offered.

“Me too,” Carol said with a sigh. Her chest tightened at the memory of her sister. It had been years, but time really did little except to dull the pain. 

“What happened?” Daryl asked. “Can I ask that?” 

“It was a car accident,” Carol said. “A mile and a half from her house. She must have looked down to get something and she ran off the road. Hit a tree. The—the steering wheel...”

“You don’t gotta say nothin’ else,” Daryl said. “I’ve had brothers that had accidents on highways all around here. It don’t never do nobody any good to sit an’ talk about the details or what the hell they found where. End result is it hurts like hell to care an’ then...they just gone. Thing is—they’re gone, but your carin’ ain’t. It just sort of hangs around with nowhere to go.”

“That’s probably the most accurate description of grief that I’ve ever heard,” Carol said.

Carol laughed to herself and Daryl got up from his seat. He walked around the bar and pulled out shot glass that he put in front of her and filled with an amber liquid.

“I can’t,” she said. 

“One shot,” Daryl said. “I’m drivin’, you ain’t. One shot couldn’t make you drunk if you wanted it to. It’ll just take the edge off.”

Carol tasted the liquid and made a face at the harsh flavor.

“All the way back,” Daryl commanded. “Goes down easy that way.” 

Carol realized she wasn’t going to get out of it and one drink would really do nothing more to her than give her the warm feeling in her belly that she knew to expect from it. It would take the edge off, as Daryl had suggested. She tossed the drink back and Daryl took the shot glass from her and rinsed it nearby.

“In my experience, it don’t never get easier,” Daryl said. “The losin’ people.”

“Sophia’s middle name is Grace,” Carol said. 

“Right nice tribute to your sister,” Daryl said. “Sophia seems like a hell of a kid.”

Carol laughed at the description. Daryl’s tone of voice told her it was meant to be a compliment.

He walked back around the bar, but this time he kept going. He walked over to Carol’s abandoned broom and started pushing it around. Carol got quickly to her feet and walked over to try to take the broom back from him.

“I can finish this,” she said. “It’s not your job to do.”

He fought her to keep her from taking the broom, his hold on the handle stronger than her ability to pull it away from him. He laughed quietly at her attempts to wrestle it from him. 

“I ain’t doin’ it because I got to,” Daryl said, “I’m doin’ it because it’s what the hell I feel like doing. Tell me somethin’ else about your sister. Not—not the bad stuff. Tell me somethin’ good about her. What would I have wanted to know about Grace with no last name?”

Carol smiled to herself. 

“I don’t know what there is to say,” Carol said. “She was smart. She was funny. Everyone loved Grace. She was one of those people who—she wasn’t loud about it, but she commanded people’s attention. She could just walk into a room and get someone’s attention, you know? Without even trying.”

Daryl stopped sweeping. He was holding the broom, but he was simply watching Carol. He was listening to her like the description of a sister that he’d never possibly meet was fascinating. 

“I do know,” Daryl said. 

“She was beautiful,” Carol said. 

Daryl stared hard at her. It was almost enough to make Carol back up a step or two. 

“You had a lot in common,” Daryl said. 

Carol’s stomach twisted at his words. She immediately wondered if she might have misinterpreted them. Daryl dropped his eyes quickly, cleared his throat, and went back to sweeping. He broke the silence that fell awkwardly between them.

“What about your parents?” Daryl asked.

Carol swallowed. 

“My mother never could quite get over losing Grace,” Carol said. “She—got sick. She passed away about a year and a half after Grace. My father didn’t do well without my mother. I lost him about a year after she passed.”

“Broken heart?” Daryl asked.

“That’s what they say,” Carol said. “Oh—it was much more official at the time.”

“But it is what the hell it is,” Daryl said.

Carol nodded her head. 

“So I was already married and I had my husband,” Carol said. “But I only had my husband.”

“Which was like havin’ a whole damn lotta nothin’ from what I can tell,” Daryl said.

“I still believed it was better than actually having nothing,” Carol pointed out.

She stepped to open the door so that Daryl could push the pile of dirt outside. Since he wasn’t going to give her the broom, the least she could do was hold the door for him. 

“What about you?” Carol asked.

“What about me?” Daryl responded.

“Merle’s your only brother?” Carol asked.

“Only one by blood,” Daryl said. “If that’s what you mean. But the club—they’re my family. What they are? It has a way of meanin’ more to you than blood does, really.”

“Parents?” Carol asked.

“Like you,” Daryl said, “I had ‘em but now I don’t. Old man got killed when I was about thirteen—give or take a year. That was the last damn time he left my life. He was in an’ out the whole time before that.” 

“And your mother?” Carol asked.

“She died when I was—seven or eight,” Daryl said. “Not too much bigger’n your girl, I reckon.”

Daryl stopped talking suddenly. He took the broom and shook it off after he’d pushed away the dirt and other trash. He shook his head at Carol and brought his thumb up to his mouth where he set to almost violently harassing a piece of his cuticle with his teeth. 

“I’m sorry,” Carol offered. “Can I ask what happened to her?” 

“Fire,” Daryl said.

Carol’s chest tightened. She didn’t need more details. Like Daryl had said, the details did nothing but hurt. They weren’t necessary to understand the impact of what had taken place.

“Your dad took care of you then?” Carol asked.

Daryl started back through the bar carrying the broom with him. 

“It’s about damn time to get you back to Andrea’s, ain’t it?” Daryl asked. “Sophia—do she sleep good at night? If you ain’t there?” 

Carol accepted his words. He wasn’t trying to blow here off, but there were things that nobody wanted to talk about. She had plenty that she wasn’t inclined to discuss at the moment. It was certainly acceptable that Daryl might have things that he simply considered to be off limits. 

Carol walked across the bar and picked up the bucket of water that she needed to wash out before she followed Daryl to the back of the bar and into the little room where she could dump out the water and rinse the bucket.

“Sophia is a very flexible little girl,” Carol said. “Sometimes I think she’s far better behaved than any other five year old.” She sucked in a breath and let it out. “She’s been forced to behave a lot better than she really should have had to. She’s never been away from me at night, though. Oddly enough, I’m not worried. She seems really fond of Andrea.” 

“Andrea’s good with kids,” Daryl said. “Loves ‘em. They always seem fond of her, too. She helps out at the lil’ carnivals an’ stuff. Anything with kids, Andrea’s there. She loves to volunteer for that shit an’ they always let her help. She’s good with kids. You ready? To go?”

Carol nodded her head. She looked around for a final check on things, and then she nodded her head again. 

“I don’t have anything,” she said. “I sent everything with Andrea. But—I think everything’s off.”

“We’ll turn out the lights on our way out,” Daryl said. “Teeter’ll be back up here in the mornin’ with Merle anyway. It don’t matter if a bulb gets left on or some shit.”

Carol followed Daryl outside and stood beside him while he locked the door in the electric glow of the parking lot light. 

“We’ll get you a key,” Daryl said. “Get one cut tomorrow. Crockett went up there an’ got you one cut today but somehow they fucked it up. Don’t fit the lock. Get a right one tomorrow. It ain’t gonna matter much ‘til your car is runnin’, though. You ain’t gonna be up here alone. Might not be a bad idea not to be up here alone no way.”

“It’s not safe?” Carol asked.

Daryl hummed.

“Everything’s safe,” he said. “Until it ain’t. Just ain’t a good idea to be up here alone at night. That’s all. Come on.”

Carol followed Daryl to his bike and stood there staring at it. He offered her his helmet and she laughed nervously to herself.

“I guess I didn’t think about the fact we’d be taking your bike,” Carol said. “I was thinking about a car or a truck.”

Since she didn’t take the helmet from him, Daryl placed it on her head. In a move that seemed almost delicate from a man she didn’t consider “delicate” by definition, he pressed his finger against her chin and clicked the strap. Then he tightened it into place.

“Feel secure?” He asked.

“I guess,” Carol said. 

He somewhat shook her head around until he was satisfied that the helmet fit the way he wanted. 

“You scared of the bike?” Daryl asked. 

Carol didn’t immediately respond. She didn’t want to insult him, but it was a little daunting. Being on the bike was being quite vulnerable. It meant putting her life very literally into someone else’s hands.

Daryl smiled at her like he could read her mind.

“You trust me?” He asked.

“You don’t have a helmet,” Carol said. “Aren’t you worried about that?” 

“I know I ain’t gonna wreck,” Daryl said. “Gonna be careful.”

“If that was all it took,” Carol said, “then I wouldn’t need the helmet either.”

“It’s there to make you feel safe,” Daryl said. “That and—if somethin’ were to happen...ya know.” He shook his head at her. “But it ain’t gonna. Come on. You get on from that side. I’ma crank the bike an’ then you just throw your leg over. Get on behind me. Biggest thing you gotta remember is hold onto me. You can hold tight. I ain’t gonna break. When I move, you move. You just—lean into it with me. Like we one person. Goin’ the same place. Movin’ together. You got it?” 

Carol swallowed and nodded her head. 

Daryl got on the bike and cranked it. It roared to life and Carol got on. She could feel herself shaking a little with the nervous anticipation as she settled behind Daryl on the seat and fit her body to his. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned into him. Slowly, Daryl walked the bike backward and Carol settled back in against him again once he’d taken his seat once more. He took them slowly across the parking lot and out onto the road and Carol settled into the feeling of being this close to him. She took in the scent of him as she rested her head against him. She took in the vibration of the bike as it moved through her body.

She took in the feeling of moving with Daryl, just as he’d suggested she should, while he rode with her through the sleepy little town in the quiet hours where it felt like they were the only ones even alive.

It was all a brand new feeling for Carol, but she liked it. She liked it a lot.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Here we go, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“It’s none of my damn business,” Merle said, dropping his boots on the floor and sitting down at the table to work his way into them, “and you can tell me to go to hell, lil’ brother, but I’ma speak my damn piece.” 

Daryl laughed to himself and continued to pay attention to the breakfast that he was tending on the stove. Breakfast was one of his favorite meals and he was particular about not taking his eyes off it while it was cooking. It was easy to fuck it up and his whole day would be at least a little tainted if he started it off with overdone eggs, burnt toast, or ruined bacon.

“What the hell you gotta say, Merle?” Daryl asked. “Shit—I ain’t even got the sleep out my eyes yet. I don’t know what the hell you got to come in here chewin’ on my ass about already.”

“Ain’t about nothin’ you done today,” Merle said. “Hell—really ain’t about nothin’ you done. It’s about that woman. The house mouse. I been damn near ruminatin’ on the whole situation all night.”

“Carol?” Daryl asked. “What about her, Merle? What situation?”

“You got in awful late last night,” Merle said. “Is it gonna take her that long to clean up every night?”

“We got to talkin’,” Daryl said. “That’s all. Took her home to Andrea’s when we got done.”

Merle hummed at him.

“You think she’s gonna stick around?” Merle asked. “You think she’s gonna stay in Liberty?”

“That looks like what she’s aiming to do,” Daryl said.

“We miss a lot of what we aim at,” Merle said. “Asked if you think she’s really gonna stay.”

Daryl hummed at his older brother.

“I don’t know,” he said. “She seems like she don’t got nowhere else to go, Merle. She don’t even got the money to get her car fixed, pay for the insurance it would take to make it legal, or put the tires on it that she’d need not to get killed in the damned thing. Merle—this woman’s the definition of don’t got a pot to piss in. Where the hell else you think she’s gonna go right now? Couldn’t get nowhere unless she took off walkin’ down the fuckin’ highway with her kid slung up on her hip.”

“That’s what I’m scared of,” Merle said. “At least—it’s part of what I’m scared of.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“That this woman’s gonna go just strollin’ down the highway with her kid?” Daryl asked.

“That woman is about as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs, Daryl,” Merle said. “An’ she’s got her a kid to boot. One that she seems real damn dedicated to. This ain’t no drug den Mama willin’ to just up an’ forget her pup. A nervous woman is one thing, but a nervous Ma? That’s a whole different animal. Unpredictable. The only thing you can be sure of is she’ll do what she’s gotta do for that kid.”

Daryl hummed and arranged his bacon on the plate where it would drain into the paper towels until he was ready to eat it. He scooped eggs onto two separate plates and pushed down the lever on the toaster to wait for the bread to come out golden brown and perfect. 

“That’s how the hell it oughta be, Merle, ain’t it?” Daryl asked. “Don’t know why that makes you nervous.”

“She could bolt,” Merle said. “Up and leave. Get a whiff of somethin’ in the air that can’t no damn body else even smell and disappear in the middle of the night with the kid.”

“Without a car she don’t get too far,” Daryl said. “Besides—I don’t really see where it would be no skin off your teeth if she didn’t stick around. Guess I don’t know what the hell your point is—if you got one.”

“My point is, Daryl, that I know you, brother,” Merle said. “I know how you are.”

“And how the hell am I, Merle?” Daryl asked. His stomach twisted at his brother’s words. He felt a certain anxiety at knowing that he was about to be called out for something—even if he wasn’t entirely sure that he knew what he was about to get called out for, exactly. 

“Get attached,” Merle said. “Quick like. Find you somethin’ you like an’ you damn near can’t live with yourself or anybody else if you lose it.”

Daryl swallowed.

His brother gave him hell. He had given him hell all his life. That was part of Merle. It was who Merle was. The only time that Daryl ever really took anything that Merle said seriously was when he wasn’t giving someone hell. Anything he said to get someone’s goat was just something said to stir them up. He was simply looking for a reaction when he was spouting off at the mouth like that. When he was serious, though, that’s when Merle was speaking his truth.

Merle was being sincere.

And he wasn’t wrong. Even Daryl knew that.

Daryl laughed nervously to himself and took the plates to the table. He put one in front of Merle and another in front of his place at the table. He brought the bacon. He brought the butter and ketchup from the fridge. He brought two kinds of jelly. He made a special trip for almost every single item that they needed—even though he knew they needed it all ahead of time—because he wanted to have something to distract him for just a little bit longer. Merle let him have the time he seemed to need to take without harassing him. 

Merle understood. He’d lived with Daryl since the first time Daryl had taken a breath. Merle knew life without Daryl’s existence. Daryl didn’t know life without Merle’s.

“What makes you think I’m attached?” Daryl asked. “Ain’t known her for more’n two days. Can’t hardly get too attached in that amount of time. Hell—I don’t even know her last name.”

Daryl retrieved the toast from the toaster and sat down. Now that Merle had him thinking, his stomach was doing some odd acrobatics and he wasn’t even sure he wanted the breakfast that he’d crafted with a great deal of excitement.

“I don’t know if you attached or not,” Merle said. “Maybe I’m just givin’ you a warning, brother. Lettin’ you know that I ain’t wantin’ you to get hurt.”

Daryl laughed nervously to himself and set about buttering his now-unwanted toast.

“Like some woman I don’t even know’s gonna hurt me, Merle,” Daryl mused. 

Merle hummed at him and worked on preparing his own toast the way he liked it—dripping in butter and glopped heavy and high with grape jelly.

“I ain’t pissin’ on your choices if you got a taste for her right quick,” Merle said. “Hell—she’s got something, don’t she? Pretty lil’ thing. Gonna be prettier once her face heals up. Got that somethin’ soft about her. Makes a man feel like he’d be more of a man if he could just get close to her. Lil’ bitty thing, too. Damn near dainty. Just—well, like I said. Just the kinda woman that can make a man feel like more of a man.”

“Sounds to me like it’s you that’s got a taste in your mouth,” Daryl said with a snort. He raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Andrea know you pining after the house mouse? ‘Cause I can imagine she ain’t gonna like that an’ there ain’t gonna be nothin’ soft about Andrea if she gets a whiff of you havin’ some interest in this woman.”

“I ain’t got no interest in her,” Merle said. “I’m more than satisfied. And whether you know it or not, brother, there’s plenty soft about Andrea if that’s what I want.” He laughed to himself. “Plenty of just about anything, depending on her mood. What I’m gettin’ at is that I can see what would draw your attention to this woman. To Carol. Hell—you ain’t gonna be the only one. She stays around here? You know she’s damn near gonna have to carry a flyswatter around ‘cause they gonna be buzzin’ around her. Piece a’ strange is hard to come by in Liberty. A piece a’ strange that looks like that is damn near Halley’s Comet. And, brother, if you was one that could take you just a lil’ nip of that nectar and leave the flower be? I’d tell you to don’t waste no time and get on in there quick as you can. But that ain’t you, brother, an’ you ain’t gonna be able to fly off from the flower once you tasted it. It’s better to just let that one be until you know if she’s stayin’ or she’s goin’. Really stayin’, I mean. Because if she’s going? Daryl—you oughta just pick you out somethin’ around here. There’s plenty in Liberty would have you if you’d just say you wanted it. Find you a sweet lil’ piece that’s gonna stay here an’ latch onto that.”

Daryl swallowed. His own spit felt like it was hung in his throat. His chest felt tight and heavy and he didn’t even know why.

Maybe it was simply because his brother was bringing up something that Daryl was trying not to think about. It was something that Daryl didn’t want to talk about, either.

“You awful concerned about my feelings, Merle,” Daryl said.

“I don’t wanna see no woman drag my brother’s fuckin’ heart down the highway,” Merle said. “If that makes me an asshole—so be it, brother.” 

Daryl swallowed. He nodded his head. 

“An’ what if she didn’t?” Daryl asked.

“Do what?” Merle asked.

“What if she didn’t drag my heart down no highway, Merle?” Daryl asked. “What if—I got in there an’ I tasted the honey in the flower? What if I liked it? What if—I didn’t go on to no other flower an’ there weren’t no other bees that ever come buzzin’ around?” 

“Nectar,” Merle said.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“It’s nectar that’s in a flower, Daryl,” Merle said. “Honey’s what the hell the bees make from the nectar.”

“That’s what the hell you got from what I said, Merle?” Daryl asked.

Merle laughed to himself. He filled his mouth with toast, wiped away the jelly that made a sticky trail down to his chin, and then licked it off his finger before he swallowed and bothered to respond to Daryl. 

“I just don’t wanna see you hurt, brother,” Merle said. “And you know good as anybody that a woman can fuck with you all the way down to your damn soul.”

Daryl nodded.

“I know as good as any, too, that the right woman never will,” Daryl said. “Ain’t that what you’ve said before? Right woman heals your soul—she don’t hurt it.” 

Merle hummed at him.

“You already set on her, then? That what’cha tryin’ to say?” Merle asked. 

“I’m sayin’ that I ain’t even thought that far ahead, Merle,” Daryl said. “Hell—I don’t hardly know her. But...” Daryl shrugged his shoulders. “Anybody coulda said to you damn near 20 years ago that Andrea was bad for you. Would it have run you off?”

Merle laughed to himself. 

“There was more people worried about Andrea than was ever gonna worry about me, brother,” Merle responded.

“Could be a lotta people worried about Carol, too,” Daryl said. “Except—she ain’t got a soul, Merle, except that lil’ girl. And she’s lookin’ out for her kid, so ain’t nobody lookin’ out for her. That’s the only reason there ain’t nobody whisperin’ in her ear that she ought not to so much as look in my sorry ass direction.” Daryl considered his own words as he chewed through his toast. “There just ain’t nobody to try to save her from tryin’ to make some stupid ass decisions. If there was? Maybe she wouldn’ta showed up here with her face messed up like it is, runnin’ from what had to be a pretty bad decision she made at some damn point in her life. Didn’t nobody save her from that.” 

“And what, Daryl? You think you gonna save her from somethin’?” Merle asked. 

Daryl stared at his brother. 

He hated when Merle did this. He hated when he made him think about things that Daryl simply hadn’t gotten around to thinking about yet. Daryl preferred to handle things as he had to handle them. He didn’t like thinking too far ahead because he had a habit, when he did that, of somehow getting his thoughts all tangled up around his feet and tripping himself with them. He could make just about anything feel like it was monumental if he let his mind run away with it for too long.

Carol was new to Liberty. She might not even stay. She might hit the road the moment that her car was fixed and Merle had put enough money in her pocket to fill her tank and feed her and the kid until they could get to the next town that had anything to offer her. 

She was still married, though Andrea would get her ass out of that because that’s what she wanted, but earning her freedom didn’t mean that she’d want to pick up somebody else just as soon as she shook off the sonofabitch that had left his handiwork on her face. She might be sick of men. 

And even if she was looking, it didn’t mean that she was looking for a Judge. Not a lot of women were. A lot of women thought they were, but at the end of the day they didn’t want a Judge for keeps. They didn’t want to come home to him at night. Most women who wanted a Judge only wanted him for a night or two. Most women who wanted a Judge were only interested in having him until they could hop on something better and ride it into the sunset. 

The woman who wanted to be an old lady for the rest of her life was rare. Even rarer was a good woman who wanted to be an old lady. The stigma that came with the position, honestly, scared most of the good ones off. 

There were exceptions, though. And it was the knowledge of the existence of those exceptions that kept many of them even the slightest bit hopeful when it came to thinking about the possibility of a happy future with a good woman.

It would be a crying fucking shame to miss out on the possibility of success just because of the fear of possibly failing.

But it didn’t matter. Not today and not over eggs and toast. 

“Eat your eggs, Merle,” Daryl said. “Damn things don’t taste good once they get too cold.”

Merle laughed to himself.

“Yeah,” he said. “Whatever the hell you say, brother.”


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Here’s another chapter! I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Andrea had promised Sophia a pony ride and apparently she believed in keeping her word. They had only driven a few miles outside of town, but as the landscape gave way to sprawling farmland, Carol couldn’t help but feel as though they were a thousand miles away from anything

“It’s the perfect place for kids,” Andrea said. “Miss Jo and her daughters have been babysitting kids for as long as I can even remember. She’s got her license and everything. It’s all legal. Her daughters run pick up and drop off for the kids too, so they work around your schedule. They’ll keep them in-house sometimes, but they prefer to just bring them out here to the farm. They’ll bring them back when you’re ready. They’ll feed them, too, if you just let her know when and what meals and allergies and all—I don’t know, all the stuff you need to know about kids like that. You’re in luck that she recently had a couple of vacancies that she hasn’t filled yet.”

“Why not?” Carol asked. “If she’s so wonderful, it seems like she wouldn’t have any trouble filling vacancies.”

Andrea laughed to herself. 

“You’re a little paranoid,” she said. “Actually—you’re a lot paranoid. But I’ll forgive it because I know you’ve been through a rough couple of days. It’s nothing sinister. Just—kids grow up. They don’t need someone to keep them after school forever or their parents aren’t looking for babysitters anymore. Around here? Sometimes there just aren’t that many new kids. It’s a small town, Carol. It’s not like we’re swimming in new blood around here.”

“Blood?” Sophia asked from the backseat. “Who’s bleeding?”

“Nobody, sweetheart,” Carol offered. “It’s a figure of speech.”

“Soph—do you like cows? Mr. Hershel has a lot of cows, too. He raises them. Dozens of them,” Andrea offered, distracting Sophia quickly from anything she might have overheard that she didn’t need to think about or misunderstand.

“I just wanna ride a pony,” Sophia offered.

Andrea laughed to herself.

“What if we rode a pony and we met some cows?” Andrea asked. “What if you didn’t have to trade one for the other and you just get to do both? I mean—is that OK, Soph?”

“That would be OK, I think,” Sophia responded.

Carol swallowed back her laughter. She glanced at Andrea who was smiling to herself while she drove. The woman had been kind enough to give them a place to stay. She was helping Carol with getting a divorce from Ed. She didn’t owe her anything else, but on top of that, it felt like she was offering Carol genuine friendship. She was offering Sophia something, too, that Carol couldn’t quite give a fitting name to.

Sophia seemed to instinctively trust Andrea and Carol, honestly, couldn’t disagree with her daughter’s assessment of the blonde that had let Sophia sleep with her whenever Carol was working late and, apparently, she’d found it just too terrifying to sleep on her own in a strange house. 

“Sophia, did you thank Andrea for taking you to ride a pony?” Carol asked. “I don’t remember hearing you thank her.” 

“She thanked me,” Andrea offered.

“Thank you!” Sophia practically yelled from the back seat, clearly wanting to make sure that Carol could hear her this time. 

“She thanked me,” Andrea repeated. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Are you excited about meeting your new babysitters or...caretakers?” Carol asked. 

“No,” Sophia said blankly.

Andrea snorted in her attempts to swallow down her laughter before it escaped.

“At least she’s honest,” Andrea offered. “Sophia—you’re going to love Miss Jo. And her daughters are wonderful. Miss Maggie and Miss Beth? You’re going to love them. They’ll take you to ride the pony, too, sometimes.”

“They have the pony?” Sophia asked.

“They do,” Andrea said.

“You said—you didn’t say it was them,” Sophia responded.

“I said Mr. Hershel has the pony,” Andrea said. “But Mr. Hershel is married to Miss Jo. They’re a family. They all have the pony. Are you ready to meet them now?” 

“You like them?” Sophia asked.

“I like them very much,” Andrea offered. “Miss Jo makes me a pie every year for my birthday. She makes the best apple pie ever.”

“I guess it’ll be OK, then,” Sophia offered from the backseat.

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“I can pay you in advance if you need me to,” Carol said. “Mostly I’m looking for evening childcare. I work evenings so that’s when I’m going to need someone with her. I’ll need people every now and again during the day, but it’ll be mostly evenings.”

“We’re never closed,” the old woman assured her. “I’ve had children who needed to spend the night when their parents were on third shift. We make it work. It may be me that watches her or it may be Maggie or Beth. I can’t offer you any kind of promise about who it’ll be that has her, but I can promise you that she’ll be in good hands, no matter the hour.”

Carol smiled at Miss Jo. She believed her. The woman seemed like the perfect grandmother that Carol never had. The little farmhouse was warm and welcoming and it smelled clean and a little like the remnants of something that the woman had likely cooked for breakfast.

Hershel Greene, the veritable “man of the hour” as far as Sophia was concerned, seemed like a nice man too. He was outside with Andrea while his youngest daughter, Beth, was walking alongside a pony that Sophia was slowly riding around the yard. 

Without question and without hesitation, the whole family had welcome Carol and Sophia as though they’d known them forever—and Carol was almost starting to believe for herself that this wasn’t the first time she’d sat in these wooden chairs across the table from Josephine Greene.

“I’m sure she will be,” Carol said. “But I really hate to make you keep such odd hours...”

Miss Jo shook her head.

“The Judges,” she said. “I’ve been caring for some of their children since not long after they were children themselves.”

“You know about the club, then?” Carol asked, a little intrigued at how far-reaching the motorcycle club seemed to be.

Miss Jo smiled at her. 

“Know about it? I’d have to be senile not to know about the Judges,” she said. “And if I were that senile, I’d certainly recommend that you not leave that little girl here.”

“I’m still getting used to it,” Carol said. “I didn’t realize that everyone knows about them. Even out here.”

Miss Jo nodded her head. 

“Everyone knows the Judges,” Miss Jo said. “If you’re from Liberty or any of the surrounding areas, you know them. And that’s all I’ll really say about that. My oldest daughter is dating one of the prospects.” 

“That’s nice,” Carol offered. 

“What about you, dear?” Miss Jo asked.

“What about me?” Carol responded.

“Are you dating a prospect or—I’d suspect a full patch,” Miss Jo said. She got to her feet and walked to the window to look out. From where she was, she could easily see her husband talking to Andrea. “That’s typically the way you get the royal treatment from the queen bee, herself.”

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With the bathroom door open, Carol was content to leave Sophia to play and splash in the tub with the cups and bowls that Andrea had given her for entertainment. Sophia’s singing echoing in the small bathroom, and the sounds of water soaking the floor every now and again, kept Carol more than comfortable in the knowledge that her daughter was fine. 

Sophia was better than fine, actually. Carol hadn’t seen her daughter, before, quite the way she’d been that day. But, then again, Carol had never actually seen Sophia surrounded by people that encouraged her to be herself. Ed had always wanted Sophia to suppress absolutely everything about herself and, because of that, Carol had spent much of Sophia’s life asking Sophia to be a little less like a child and a little more like a porcelain doll that would make her father at least somewhat happy.

Nobody was asking Sophia to be a doll here. Quite the opposite. It had been Andrea, herself, that had led the barefoot charge into the edge of the pond where Sophia had caught her first bullfrog with Beth’s assistance.

“I just got off the phone with Beth,” Andrea called from her bedroom where she was getting dressed after the quick shower she’d taken just before Carol had gotten Sophia settled in the tub. “She said she’ll be here in about an hour. That should give us plenty of time to get up to the Chambers and get things going before the dinner rush hits.”

Carol was already dressed in the comfortable clothes that would allow her to move around the bar as much as she’d need to, serving first the dinner crowd—which they were hoping would grow a little more each night as word got out that she was working there and things were going smoothly—and then the regulars as they powered through their normal late night routine. As she understood it, Carol could expect pretty much every night to be like the night before. The Judges didn’t seem to care if it was Monday or Friday—every night was the perfect night to gather together in the company of their brothers.

“Can I ask you something, Andrea?” Carol asked, stepping up to Andrea’s bedroom door—which was just as wide open as the bathroom door.

“Sure thing,” Andrea said. 

“Miss Jo asked me something today and—she seemed really surprised at my answer,” Carol said. “I’d guess she was as surprised by my answer as I was by her question.”

Andrea looked at her and furrowed her brow. She was almost ready to go, and that was clear, but she still wasn’t done painting on the heavy coat of makeup that she typically wore to the bar.

“What on Earth could she ask you that would surprise you?” Andrea asked.

“She asked me—who I was dating,” Carol said.

Andrea laughed to herself.

“Jesus—why would that surprise you?” Andrea asked. “In a small town like Liberty, that’s what they ask you at the A and P. Do you want paper or plastic? Do you need a hand carrying that out? Who are you fucking? So we can talk about it as soon as you get out the door.”

“It wasn’t like that, though,” Carol said. “She said—well, she said she imagined I was dating someone important or I wouldn’t get personal attention from you. Except she called you the queen bee.”

Andrea hummed.

“I’ve been called worse things before,” Andrea said. “That’s for damned sure. Carol—I mean I don’t know what you want me to say. You’re not dating anybody that I’m aware of. Are you?” 

“No,” Carol said, “and that’s what I told her. I told her I barely know anybody and that I just got into Liberty. I told her I’m working at the bar. That’s really it.”

“So you’re not dating anybody and she’s just trying to figure things out like any nosy person around Liberty is likely to do. She took a chance, made an educated guess, and asked you to clarify it. You did. You told her that you’re not seeing anybody. You told her you hardly even know anyone. Now she’s got to go back to trying to figure things out. So there’s your answer,” Andrea said, “if there was a question. I don’t even know if there is a question. Was it about me being the queen bee?” 

“Are you the queen bee?” Carol asked.

“I’m the President’s old lady, Carol,” Andrea said. “I’ve been fucking Merle just about daily for the past—twenty or so years, actually. Believe it or not. And he’s actually been the President for nearly that long. I’ve soothed a lot of broken hearts. I’ve been pissed on and puked on by a lot of members in that club. I’ve cleaned up more than my fair share of vomit and I’ve made rules about that damn back room when there was too damn much cum on the sheets back there for my comfort when I’ve been responsible for cleaning it up. I’ve helped clean road rash from wrecks and busted lips from disputes gone wrong. I’ve at least moved every one of those bikes around the parking lot a couple of times and a Judge doesn’t let just anybody touch their bike. I don’t know what it means to be the queen bee, Carol, but I know what it is to love my man and my boys—all of them.” She laughed to herself. “Even Alice, though technically she’s not one of the boys—she’s my gal, maybe.” Andrea turned around and stared at Carol. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t look angry either. She was simply being sincere. “Does that answer your question, Carol?” 

“I feel—like I’m not at all used to people being so nice to me,” Carol said.

“And it feels like the other shoe’s got to drop?” Andrea asked. Carol nodded her head. “It feels like there’s bound to be a catch?” Carol nodded again. She swallowed against the churning sensation in her stomach. That was exactly what it felt like. “It feels like you’re always one minute away from finding out—I guess—from finding out what it is that’s expected of you?” 

“Yeah,” Carol breathed out. “That’s what it feels like.”

Andrea laughed to herself.

“It’s expected that you’ll be at work in about an hour,” Andrea said. “And that, while you’re there, you’ll be the best damned house mouse that there ever was. Carol—the Judges have a code, I guess you could say. They have a lot of rules by which they all lead their lives. One of those is to help. They help each other, but they also help other people. I guess the rules bleed out into the family, too. Even as an old lady, you learn to live by the rules.” She laughed to herself. “There’s no other shoe that’s going to drop. There’s no catch. You don’t owe anybody a thing—financially or otherwise. The only thing anybody might ask you is that you pay it forward—if you ever get the chance.”

“I paid Miss Jo today,” Carol said with a laugh. “I don’t even have enough to pay it forward if I wanted to.”

“The good news is that kindness doesn’t cost a thing,” Andrea said. She turned back toward the mirror and started back on her work of applying several more coats of mascara. “Did you tell Miss Jo that you were getting a divorce from the asshole that left your face that color? The bruises should have been enough to stop her thinking you were dating a Judge. The club would never stand for that—unless of course you liked it or...well, like you really just fell down the stairs or something. Still—I could see if you were eschewing men for a good long while.” Andrea turned around to look at Carol, her mascara wand hanging in the air until she returned to look in the mirror. “Of course, the best way to get over a bad fall is to get back on the horse. If you were interested in a rebound—I might be able to offer you some suggestions. Nobody knows my boys better than me.”

She winked at Carol and then she turned back to face her reflection and to finish reapplying her mascara—the final steps that took her from “everybody’s neighbor” during the day to the apparent “queen bee” presiding over a swarm of bikers who practically bowed in her presence. 

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AN: Sometimes I know I have to say these things because people like to jump to conclusions. Beth is an occasional character in this story. She will know Daryl. He will know her. They will like one another. They might even interact. It’s highly possible they’ll even have a nice moment or two with one another. They are not romantically involved nor will they be. Their interactions are friendly and are only supposed to be taken as friendly. There’s my PSA. 

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Here we are, another chapter. 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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His brothers could be like sharks—all of them. They’d take anything they could get on a slow day—and most days were slow days in Liberty—but nothing got them quite as stirred up as a drop of fresh blood in the waters. 

She was turning good tips, at least. 

The first few nights she worked there, they were all gentleman. They all kept their distance. They gave her space and they gave her room to breathe. The unspoken grace period wore off, though, and they all started to grow comfortable with her presence. Maybe some even got a little too comfortable.

Daryl saw the first time Willis’s hand came out to pat her backside. He laughed to himself, too, when he saw her swat it with the pad she was using to keep track of their orders.

He noticed the way that Crockett flourished the larger bills that he kept offering her, holding them pinched between his fingers as he waved her over to his table for another beer or a basket of something artery-clogging. She would have served him just the same without the show of money, but it made Crockett feel like a bigger man if he could wave a little green in front of her eyes. Daryl thought it was distasteful, though, given that they knew she was hard up. It felt like taking advantage. That was why, when he’d counted off his forty bucks in tips for the night, he’d discreetly dropped the money in her jar when she wasn’t looking.

At least it would get her started toward a new set of tires, especially since he knew that Merle had dropped at least fifty in the jar himself—all in ones to keep her from realizing that they all came from the same warm body. They’d given him hell at the shop for having fifty dollars in ones—which he drew out of the bank that way—and Merle had accepted the ribbing that he’d taken a night job as a stripper in a shithole town a few miles away. He’d been fairly good natured about it. As he’d said, at least he was making money. He must not be too damn bad as far as shitty strippers went.

Some of his brothers went a totally different direction with their wooing. Some tried buying her a drink because the fastest way to a woman’s bed was through making her so damn drunk that she started to think you looked OK.

Some tried talking real sweet and close to her. An arm went over her shoulder, someone invited her to sit a minute, and they talked real close to her face. And she smiled at them. She smiled at them just as broadly as she smiled at anybody else and she didn’t point out that their breath probably smelled like sour beer and stale cigarettes.

But she worked her way out from under their arms and continued on with her work like she was doing a little dance. She was nice enough to get the tips—probably counting her way to some tires, some insurance, or something her daughter probably needed in her head—but she wasn’t too warm to anyone.

Daryl jumped when a beer touched down in front of him that clearly hadn’t come from Carol because she was across the room.

It was Alice. The brunette slid into the seat across the table from him with her own beer in front of her. 

“Thanks,” Daryl said, nodding his head toward the fresh beer she’d brought him. He turned up the one he was drinking and finished it. He’d been nursing it for so long that he winced at the taste of it. It wasn’t very good beer to begin with, but it was even worse when it had time to hit room temperature.

“What are we watching?” Alice asked.

“The hell you talkin’ about?” Daryl asked.

“You were pretty involved in something over here,” Alice said. “I snuck up on you and I wasn’t even trying.”

“Too damn quiet,” Daryl said.

“There’s something I’ve never been accused of before,” Alice mused.

Daryl laughed to himself. He had to. He’d known Alice just about as long as he’d known anybody and quiet had never really been one of the adjectives that anyone would use to describe her. In fact, if Alice was quiet, it was best to be worried. It meant that something was going on with her or she was up to something.

“So—what are you watching?” Alice asked.

“Feels like the fuckin’ Discovery Channel, to tell you the truth,” Daryl said. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Alice asked.

Daryl nodded in Carol’s direction. She was just delivering a couple of baskets of fries to a table.

“Like watchin’ sharks on the damn Discovery Channel. They all over her,” Daryl said. “Damn near got her circled.” He laughed to himself. “Hell, might be dogs. Not sharks. She damn near can’t get her work done for havin’ to drag her damn ass on the ground to keep they noses out of it.”

Alice snorted.

“The mating rituals of the heterosexual male,” Alice said. “I’ve seen this show before. Never interested me much. It’s too...” 

She never did finish explaining what she wanted to say, at least not with words. Her over dramatic cringing, and the sound of disgust that she made, told Daryl exactly what she wanted to say without requiring her to search her extensive vocabulary for a word that he’d probably just have to ask her to define before he acquired it for his own use. 

“How the hell things comin’ in your show, by the way?” Daryl asked. “Matin’ rituals of the lesbian? A week ago you was buzzin’ about some chick and then you just ain’t said shit else about her.”

Alice smiled to herself. He knew that smile. She leaned on the table and he thought he might have seen a blush of color come to her cheeks.

“She’s good,” Alice said. “She’s great, really. Smart. Funny. She’s fucking hilarious when she wants to be. She’s—successful. Everything you could want her to be. She works at the college. She moved here when the semester started, lured in by low research obligations and the dangled-carrot of tenure. She teaches like a thousand classes a day and so she’s always busy but—she’s really great. She came by the hospital and we had coffee there between my shifts. I went by the college and we had lunch in their food court.”

“So what the hell’s the problem?” Daryl asked. “If she’s that damn perfect...y’all gonna do shit besides eat?” Immediately Daryl laughed at himself. “I mean—besides eat food? ‘Cause I know that eatin’ shit’s kinda important to y’all.”

“I want to,” Alice said. “I really do. But—she only knows Doctor Alice. She doesn’t know Judge Alice.”

“You think the cut’s gonna be a problem for her?” Daryl asked.

“You know as well as I do that not every woman finds a cut a good look,” Alice said.

“I know as well as you do that not every woman’s cut out to be no old lady neither,” Daryl said. “If she can’t handle the cut, then she can’t handle the club. An’ if she can’t handle the club...”

“I know,” Alice said. “If she can’t handle the cut, she doesn’t make the cut.”

“Too damn judgmental,” Daryl said.

“I don’t think she will be,” Alice said. “I hope she won’t be. I think—I’m pretty sure she won’t be.”

“Then stop pussy footin’ around, Al,” Daryl said. “There’s at least half a dozen more dykes in this general vicinity. I know that ‘cause you dated all of ‘em. You know good as I do that they like the sharks we lookin’ at here. Fresh blood’s gonna have ‘em all stirred up. As excited as you was about her ass a couple days ago, I’d hate to see you miss out on somethin’ good ‘cause you was too damn chicken shit to make a move.” 

Alice laughed to herself. She took a long drink from her beer and then she set about peeling the label off like she did on every single beer she ever drank. She’d pile all the little pieces up beside the bottle and then, as soon as she was done drinking it, she’d stuff them all down inside the bottle. 

“I guess you’re right,” Alice said. “I’ll talk to her. Maybe I’ll—invite her over or something. Show her my trike. See if she’s into it.” She laughed quietly to herself and wagged her eyebrows at Daryl. “With any luck, I’ll find out that bikes turn her on. Then I can just be like—well hold onto your panties because boy have I got some shit to tell you.” 

Daryl laughed. 

It was true. It was hard as hell for any of them to find someone that was both worth keeping around and willing to stay around. The way that things went with the club, people were either drawn to it—and they stuck for life—or they were sent running in the opposite direction. It just wasn’t easy finding someone that could be a good fit for both the individual and the club.

It seemed to be even harder for Alice since her pond seemed significantly smaller.

Of course, Daryl hadn’t pulled anything out of the proverbial pond that was worth keeping, either, so he couldn’t really pretend that they were practically jumping in the boat. 

“What’s her name?” Daryl asked. “You need a brother to look her up? Have a little talk with her?” 

“No!” Alice said. She pointed her finger at Daryl and tried to look serious, but really she was smiling too broadly to keep it under control. He didn’t try to hide his smile either. He was teasing her and she knew it. “You stay away from her. All of you stay away from her. I gotta ease her into this slowly.”

“Nah,” Daryl said. “You don’t do that. Gives her more time to overthink shit. Decide she don’t like it ‘fore she tries it. Throw her in. Head first. What the hell you do is—you bring her up here. Friday. She’ll like comin’ on a Friday. Just bring her in then an’ throw her right on in. All the way. Then she’ll either like it and stay or she’ll high tail it the fuck outta here as fast as her feet’ll carry her. Either way...you gonna know if she was even worth tryin’ to keep.”

Alice laughed.

“And what about you, Mr. Romance?” Alice asked. “When’s the last time you brought anybody by? You’ve been holding down that chair so long it’s got your ass print permanently etched into it. When you die it won’t be fit for anyone else to sit there. We’ll have to hang a plaque right above where your head is that commemorates that you used to sit here, wasting away, night after night—and we’ll always have this fine impression of your ass to remember you by.”

“It’ll last for generations,” Daryl offered. He hummed and shook his head. “You know I ain’t interested in nobody. Liberty ain’t got shit to offer me.”

“What about—what was her name?”

“I don’t know,” Daryl said. “You would know—you the one thinkin’ about her. Whoever the hell she might be.”

“Asshole. What was her name? Blonde? Liked lip gloss. God awful gobs of it. Was it Kimberly?” Alice asked. “Kim?”

“Kim,” Daryl confirmed. “Fuck that, Alice. She weren’t nothin’. She was into me, but I weren’t into her. There’s a difference.”

“I thought you liked her,” Alice said. “You dated her for like—a couple of weeks.”

“I never dated her,” Daryl responded. “She was up here every damn time I turned around. Hung all over me. Followed me home. That ain’t datin’. That’s more like pickin’ up a stray.” 

“You have something against strays?” Alice asked.

“When I don’t want ‘em around, I do,” Daryl said. “Besides—I’m pretty sure she had fleas. I don’t want that shit.”

“It probably wasn’t fleas she had,” Alice said. “But—at any rate, you don’t want that. There’s been enough of it going around Liberty the past couple of years. Still, there’s got to be someone that you want.”

“Not that wants a Judge,” Daryl said. “Not that wants what I want.”

Alice hummed at him.

“You can’t tell me that, in the whole state of Georgia, there’s no woman that wants what you want, Daryl, who wouldn’t mind the fact that you’re a biker,” Alice said.

“Biker and family man don’t mesh in the minds of some people,” Daryl said. “Besides—who the fuck am I kidding? I ain’t cut out for that shit. Maybe it don’t mesh ‘cause none of us got any damn business tryin’ to be some shit like that.” 

“I think it meshes just fine,” Alice said. “And—I think that there are probably plenty of women that would want everything you want. You just haven’t looked around enough. You gotta get out there. That’s your problem, Daryl. You don’t play the game.”

“It’s a stupid game to play,” Daryl said.

“Ah—but the mating rituals of the heterosexual male pay off, as long as it’s the right male that goes after the female,” Alice said. Daryl cut his eyes in Alice’s direction and she smiled at him. She rested her chin on her hand. She sucked in a dramatic breath and let out a fake sigh. “You’re really easy to read, asshole. It’s a good thing pool’s more your game than poker. I won’t say another damn word if you don’t want me to, but she’s in the Chambers—and she’s already got a head start on that family. But you might not want to think about it too long. The—uh—the sharks are circling.” 

“Pffftt,” Daryl responded, not giving Alice anything else to go on. She laughed to herself and raised her eyebrows, her chin still resting on her hand.

“You want a sister to have a little talk with her?” Alice asked. “All you gotta do is say the word. I could talk you up. After all, I know a little about what the ladies wanna hear.”


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I want to thank you all sincerely for your support of this story. I’ve appreciated every comment and I’m so glad that you’re excited to go on this journey with me. I intend to respond to your comments, but I haven’t had the chance to get around to it just yet. Just know that I do greatly appreciate you taking the time to let me know you’re reading! 

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl got off the bike when they got to Andrea’s house and he accepted the helmet that Carol offered him. He rested it on his bike seat and searched for something to say to prolong the farewell just a moment longer. Because he was making no move to leave, Carol was making no move to go inside even though she had to be tired.

Every night Daryl had taken the job of staying behind with Carol at the bar and making sure that she got home safely. He dragged into work ten or fifteen minutes late and a little more tired than usual, but since he worked with his brothers, he found himself forgiven for his tardiness. 

Sometimes Daryl and Carol talked at the bar. Other times they let the silence hang easily between them. When there was silence, it always felt comfortable. When they did talk, though, they covered every topic from their thoughts on humane mouse traps to whether or not it was probable that there was life on other planets.

It was easy to talk to Carol. She seemed interested in everything that Daryl had to say and he found that he was always interested in her responses.

When he wasn’t thinking about it, he could easily fill hours talking to her. As soon as his brain got the idea that what he had to say might be important, though, it shut down almost entirely until he felt like there was nothing more than a test pattern running between his ears.

“Was a pretty good night,” Daryl said. “You done OK, didn’t you?”

Carol smiled at him. She nodded her head.

“Yeah, it was a good night,” she agreed. “I got a lot more tips than I anticipated.”

Daryl nodded.

“That’s good, though,” he said. “That’s good.”

When he wasn’t trying to think of something to say to Carol, he felt like he could engage her for hours. He could say things that made her laugh. He could hold her attention. He could get her talking about her life and her thoughts—as long as they were thoughts she was willing to share. 

But now that he wanted to talk to her? Now that he was thinking about it? His own damn mind was sabotaging him. He was sinking fast and he knew it. 

But Alice was right. If he wanted to spend time with her outside of work, he was going to have to be the one to up and say something. 

“Supposed to be nice tomorrow,” Daryl said. “No rain or nothin’.” Carol nodded at him and hummed her understanding. What else was she supposed to do? He hadn’t given her a single damn thing to work with. “There’s—there’s a real nice park. Just on the edge of town. It’s real nice. Clean. Big. Got—got them big old...them big old things that kids can climb on. Slides. Swings.”

“That sounds nice,” Carol said.

“It is,” Daryl said. “Thought your lil’ girl might like to go out there an’ play. They got some real nice shade trees. Good if you wanted to sit out there with her.”

“Thanks,” Carol said. “I can—ask Andrea about it. I can see what her day looks like.”

“I guess I messed up,” Daryl said. 

“What?” Carol asked.

“I was trying to ask you if you wanted to go,” Daryl said. “With me. You an’ your daughter. Sophia. I was askin’ if you wanted to go tomorrow to the park.”

“With you?” Carol asked.

“With me,” Daryl repeated.

“What about...?” Carol gestured toward the bike. “Sophia,” she said, the one word enough for an explanation.

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“I got a truck, too,” Daryl said. “Extended cab, even. She can sit in the back an’ there ain’t no worries.” Carol nodded her head, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. Daryl chewed at his lip. Her expression made his stomach turn a little. He realized that she had just as good of a chance of telling him “no” as she did of accepting his offer, but he hadn’t really prepared himself for rejection—he hadn’t even prepared himself for acceptance. He cleared his throat. “Listen, if you don’t wanna go, then you don’t gotta, OK? I mean it ain’t no obligation and it ain’t gonna blow back on you one way or another. It wouldn’t never. So you answer how the hell you wanna answer and you don’t think you got to answer no way specific, OK? Last thing I’d want is you spendin’ time with me ‘cause you felt like you was obligated to do so.”

“It’s not that,” Carol said. She let her words trail off, though, so that she didn’t actually offer Daryl any idea of what it might be. She was going to force him to drag it out of her. 

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asked. “Somethin’ I done that makes you don’t wanna take your kid to the park with me?” 

“It’s nothing you’ve done,” Carol said.

Daryl hummed.

“It’s the cut?” He asked.

“What?” Carol asked.

He lifted the edge of his cut to demonstrate what he was taking about. 

“The cut,” he said. “It scares people. Scares ‘em off, most the time. That what it is? It’s the cut?” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“You know, if you’d asked me that when I got here, I probably would have told you yes,” Carol said. “But now I know—it isn’t the cut. The cut doesn’t scare me. In fact, I think it—well, I think it fascinates me more than anything.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“That’s one I ain’t heard before,” he said.

“I guess I have a unique way of seeing things,” Carol offered.

Daryl swallowed.

“I’d say there was a good deal about you that was unique,” Daryl said. He felt his face run warm and his stomach knotted up again. For just a moment he’d forgotten that he was standing in Andrea’s front yard, in the middle of the night, getting rejected by Carol. He’d forgotten that he needed to feel nervous and a little humiliated. For just a moment, things had come easily again and it was just as though they were talking back at the Chambers—the time before Daryl had embarrassed himself by thinking that inviting Carol and her kid to the park was a good idea.

Now he remembered that he ought to be embarrassed. But she was half-smiling at him.

Daryl sucked in a breath and sighed.

“Listen—I get it and I know that you don’t owe me no explanation. Alice an’ Andrea both’d run me up the street in one direction and back down the other yellin’ at me to make sure I understood that you can just flat say you ain’t interested in goin’ to the park with me and that’s all you gotta say. So I ain’t demanding that you tell me what I done wrong or what’s wrong with me, but I am askin’ you to tell me. Just—‘cause...hell, it’ll make me sleep better if I don’t gotta turn myself over all night tryin’ to figure it out.”

Carol’s smile broadened a little more. She took an acute interest in her shoes or Daryl’s boots and then she looked back at him. She licked her lips, dampening them while she clearly thought about the words she was interested in using. Daryl saw the tip of her tongue peek out between her lips and he tried not to focus on that image too much.

“It isn’t you,” Carol said. “And I didn’t want to say that because I’ve heard that’s the worst line that anybody can use to reject someone. But it’s true. It isn’t you. And I don’t want to reject you. I don’t want to turn you down.”

“Then don’t,” Daryl said. He laughed nervously to himself.

Carol shook her head.

“I don’t feel like I have any choice,” Carol said.

“That’s the damnedest thing about free will,” Daryl said. “Means you got all the choices in the world. There ain’t nobody here makin’ choices for you but you, Carol. You do what the hell you want to do.”

Carol nodded.

“Part of the motto of being a Judge, isn’t it?” Carol asked.

“There’s limits,” Daryl said. “It means you do what the hell you wanna do—as long as it...well, as long as it fits within the parameters.” 

“What are those parameters?” Carol asked.

“Gonna take a while to explain all of ‘em,” Daryl said. “But—if you got time, I could prob’ly run through ‘em for you. How about tomorrow? At the park? Sophia would prob’ly like these lil’ dinosaurs they got down there. All set up on springs an’ they can ride ‘em just rockin’ back and forth.”

Carol laughed quietly. She sucked in a breath.

“Daryl—I’m a married woman,” Carol said.

“A soon be unmarried woman,” Daryl said. “From what I hear tell.”

“That’s exactly it,” Carol said. “I’m about to be an unmarried woman and—I don’t know what that means to me, yet. I haven’t even had time to think about it. I know that...” She paused for a long while, but Daryl let her have her time. It was clear that she was thinking about something. She was searching through words. He let her search. He knew how hard it could be to run those words down in your mind and beat them into submission so that they’d come out of your mouth in a somewhat orderly fashion. 

It was the middle of the night, and his head was aching from lack of sleep, but he’d give her however much time she needed.

“Can I be honest with you?” Carol asked.

She peered at him. Her eyes felt like they were burrowing under his skin. It felt like she probably had access to the darkest corners of his brain. He felt like he couldn’t hide from her—not that he was trying to hide anything.

“Wish you would,” Daryl said.

“I don’t know why my husband was the way he was,” Carol said. “But I know—a lot of what he told me.”

“All lies, prob’ly,” Daryl said.

“You don’t know that,” Carol said.

“I don’t know it to be a falsehood, neither,” Daryl offered. “So I’ll believe the way I’m leaning.”

“The point is, I have to think about that. I need to think about that. I need to figure out where I went wrong as a—as a wife. As a mother. I feel like I have so much to think about...”

Daryl laughed nervously. He had to. When he heard her talking like that, he got the strange urge to stop her in any way possible. He got the urge to do whatever he could to keep her from thinking things about herself—things that she wasn’t even saying, but he could still hear them. 

He had to cut her off because it made his chest feel a little too tight to let her keep going. 

Maybe it struck a little too close to home.

“You can’t do no thinking at the park?” Daryl asked.

“I mean that I don’t know if I’m ready for anything,” Carol said. “I don’t know when I will be. If I ever will be.”

Daryl nodded his head.

“I think I understand,” he said. 

His heart fluttered around in his chest because he did think that he understood. He thought that he understood that Carol was maybe thinking about something that he was maybe thinking about. Maybe they were thinking about the same thing. And it made her nervous to think about it, but it made his stomach feel crazy too. 

She didn’t have to say it. Daryl was pretty sure he understood it. It terrified him, just the same as it seemed to do to Carol. 

But she needed the nudge more than he did. After all, Alice had spent the whole damn night nudging him like she was trying to get him to walk the plank at sword-point.

“You do?” Carol asked, looking a little relieved.

Daryl nodded his head.

“Yeah, I think I do. And it’s a good damn thing, too, that I ain’t askin’ you to marry me, Carol,” Daryl said. “I’m just askin’ you to go to the park with me. Bring your daughter. Sit a spell and watch her while she plays. I was gonna say she might like a picnic. But if that’s too much commitment? Some crackers and a couple juice boxes oughta hold her over.”

Carol laughed. 

“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” Carol asked.

“I will,” Daryl said, trying to make sure he looked as sincere as he possibly could. “I will. If that’s what the hell you want. You tell me right now that you wanna say no and that’s what you mean. You mean no. If you tell me that—I won’t ask again. I’ll go home. And like I said, it won’t blow back on you. But...” he shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t lie, Carol. I’m really hopin’ you gonna say yes.”

“To going to the park,” Carol said, her words coming out as part question and part statement. “With Sophia.”

“And maybe a picnic?” Daryl asked.

“Don’t push your luck,” Carol said. 

“Just thinkin’ of Sophia gettin’ peckish,” Daryl said. “If we got the picnic she don’t gotta leave just ‘cause she’s hungry.”

“Maybe a picnic,” Carol said with a sigh. 

“That’s a yes?” Daryl asked.

“I’ll pack it,” Carol said.

Daryl smiled.

“That’s a yes?” He asked again. 

“You can pick us up at 11 in your truck,” Carol said.

“That’s a yes?” Daryl asked once more. “I ain’t accepting it ‘til you say it flat out.”

Carol laughed.

“That’s a yes,” Carol said. 

Before Daryl could respond, the porch light flicked on and off rapidly. Andrea opened the front door and hung halfway out onto the porch.

“Alright, kids,” she said. “It’s late and I can hear your laughing and mumbling from my bedroom. I don’t know what’s going on out here, but it’s time for bed.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Yes ma’am,” he drawled out, purposefully making it last longer than it had to.

“Goodnight, Daryl,” Andrea said. “Carol—I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

She disappeared again and Carol smiled at Daryl.

“I guess that’s my cue it’s time to go inside,” Carol said.

“Time to go home,” Daryl said. “Late—an’ I’ma ask the day off tomorrow, but I still don’t wanna sleep too late. Got somewhere to be at 11.”

“Goodnight, Daryl,” Carol said. 

She didn’t offer him anything more than that. She simply headed toward the porch. Daryl didn’t ask for more, either. He wasn’t given to pushing his luck.

“Night,” he called as he snapped his helmet on his head and adjusted the straps. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the beg bugs bite. I’ma see you in the ‘fore-noon light.”

Carol laughed from the porch.

“Goodnight, Daryl,” she repeated before she opened the door and stepped into the house. 

Daryl smiled to himself as he cranked his bike and pulled out of Andrea’s yard. In fact, he smiled to himself the whole way home, thinking more than once that Merle would tease him, if he’d seen him smiling like he surely was, that he would spend the next three days probably picking bugs out of his teeth.

But he didn’t care. Not at all.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

Thank you all for the warm reception of this story and for your support! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl lifted Sophia high enough to help her get her leg over the fake dinosaur that she’d decided to ride in her tour of every single one of the fake animals that the park had to offer. She was good at sliding off of them without a problem, but when it came time to hoist herself up onto them, she found that she wasn’t quite strong enough. Each time she came trotting over to where Daryl and Carol were—sometimes strolling back and forth on a short distance of the path that allowed them to see her, other times sitting at the picnic table nearby, and other times simply standing in the shade—Daryl insisted that Carol let him handle the situation.

But he had to be tiring of Sophia’s almost constant need to keep changing her choice of fake transportation.

“Sophia, sweetheart,” Carol said, walking over to where Daryl had just saddled her daughter on top of the newly chosen dinosaur, “why don’t we make this your last ride for a while? You haven’t even looked at all the other exciting equipment here and you’re going to wear Daryl out.”

“He said I could ride all of them,” Sophia protested, the smile she’d worn all morning slowly starting to curve downward at the thought that she might be doomed to ride the triceratops forever or do entirely without. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean in rapid succession,” Carol said. “Let’s take a break from switching.”

“You good, Soph,” Daryl said. “She’s good. It ain’t nothin’ but a thing and if I was a kid—hell, I’d wanna try ‘em all out. Only reason I don’t now is because all the assholes out here’d look at me pretty damn funny if I did.”

Carol laughed to herself. She shook her head at Daryl.

“You work hard,” Carol said. “And I’m sure you want to spend your day off relaxing.”

Daryl stared at her. Then it was his turn to laugh to himself and shake his head. 

“I been workin’ since I was twelve years old,” Daryl said. “It ain’t nothin’ new to me. And I come here do just what I’m doing: spend the day with you an’ with Soph at the park.”

“I’m sorry,” Carol said. “I didn’t mean...I didn’t even mean to say it.”

“Greatest hits,” Daryl said. “I’ve heard ‘em before. They kinda get stuck in your head like some kinda recording. Just get stuck on repeat. Go around and around. Even Sophia prob’ly knows some of ‘em by heart by now.”

“Know what?” Sophia asked, rocking back and forth on the big riding toy, soothed by the thought that Daryl didn’t mind transporting her from one to another at a moment’s notice. Carol and Daryl had moved a couple of feet away from her, slowly starting back in the direction of their picnic table, but they weren’t too far away and she had very good hearing.

“Songs that get stuck in your head,” Daryl called out to her quickly. “You know any?”

“I know—I know the one,” Sophia called back to him.

“Yeah?” Daryl asked. “How’s it go?”

Sophia started to sing a never-ending song loudly to Daryl as she jerked back and forth on the dinosaur that was anchored into the ground on a giant spring. Daryl let her belt out a few bars of it before he interrupted her. 

“That was it! That was the one! It’s just got a way of gettin’ hung there in ya head,” Daryl proclaimed. “We goin’ back to the table, Soph.”

Daryl put his hand on Carol’s shoulder and pushed her back in the direction of the table that they were occupying. She walked with him.

“Sorry about that,” Daryl said when they reached the table. He perched on the edge of it. “Didn’t mean for her to hear me.”

“She hears everything,” Carol said with a laugh. “But you were really quick. It’s like you’ve done that before. Have you been around a lot of kids?”

“Couple of the Judges got kids,” Daryl said. “Mostly older ones, though. Grown even. Couple of ‘em got kids now that’s still real little. For the most part, though, the only kids I see too much of is the ones that’s at the supermarket and shit.” He laughed to himself. “Even then, half the time their parents are tryin’ to get ‘em away from me. You never know what the hell a Judge is liable to do around kids. At least—that seems to be what they’re thinking.”

“You’re good with Sophia,” Carol said. 

Daryl smiled to himself. The corners of his mouth turned up—one side more than the other. He looked beyond Carol to the place where Sophia was still wildly riding the dinosaur that would entertain for a little while longer before she went seeking something else to do.

“I like kids,” Daryl said. “They’re simple, ya know?”

“Simple?” Carol asked.

Daryl nodded.

“Like—if I ask you somethin’, then I still gotta figure out what the hell you tell me,” Daryl said. “Is it the truth? Is it the whole truth or just half of it? Does it mean exactly what you say or does it mean somethin’ else entirely? Talking to people, sometimes, can be pretty damn exhausting. Grown people, at least. But kids? They don’t go through all that. You ask ‘em something and they’re just—simple. They give you a simple answer."

Carol laughed.

“Then you don’t know kids very well,” Carol said. “Trust me, they can fib just as much as adults do.”

“But when a kid’s fibbing, it’s usually because they’re scared of something,” Daryl said. “Usually they’re scared of what’s gonna happen if they tell the truth. Well, either that or they’re thinkin’ the story ain’t interesting enough so they’re fibbing a little to get your attention or to hold it. They’re scared you gonna lose interest an’ go away an’ not talk to ‘em no more.”

“That’s what adults are doing too,” Carol said. “If you listen closely enough.”

Daryl held her eyes for just a second before he dropped his to the ground. Carol followed his line of vision, but there was nothing there to see except the dirt beneath the one boot he kept resting on the ground. 

“Her old man ain’t gonna miss her?” Daryl asked.

“Sophia’s?” Carol asked. He hummed. Daryl asked about her husband a lot. So far she hadn’t shared much with him. She usually passed on all his questions, but he was sure to get tired of that eventually. She might as well be honest. Carol sat down on the bench attached to the picnic table and turned her body to somewhat face Daryl. “If he never saw her again, I’m sure it would be too soon for him.”

“Deadbeat,” Daryl said.

“I think he’s worse than that,” Carol said. “Present when you don’t want him to be. Present when—he doesn’t want to be. Sophia’s been little more than an inconvenience for him since she was born.”

“Mouth to feed,” Daryl said. “Drain on resources. Makes too much noise. Takes up too much space in the room just by existing.”

Carol stared at him. He darted his eyes back in her direction and Carol saw a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“It sounds like you’ve heard this story before,” Carol said. 

“It’s a classic,” Daryl said.

“Well—you’re wonderful with Sophia,” Carol said. “And you don’t spend much time around kids. So I’m positive that it’s not that you’re giving voice to your own feelings. Are you speaking from the experience of a brother that you’ve been around or something?” 

Daryl chewed his lip and Carol’s stomach clenched. She swallowed back against the realization that washed over her in a cold wave.

“Your father?” Carol asked. 

Daryl just sucked his teeth and shifted around, slightly changing his position. He nodded his head in the direction of Sophia.

“She—miss him? Cry for him? Ask about him?” Daryl asked. 

Evidently he wasn’t going to answer Carol’s question but, in choosing not to answer it, he’d really given her a response. 

“She hasn’t even mentioned him since we left,” Carol said. “She was pretty upset this morning, though, when Andrea left for work before she got up.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“That’s the other thing about kids,” Daryl said. They can sense who the hell gives a shit about ‘em. They gravitate to that.”

Carol nodded her head. 

“Maybe the same can be said for adults,” Carol said. “It’s just that sometimes we get fooled by the people who wear their masks really well. At least—until it’s too late.” 

“Never too late,” Daryl said. “Might be too late to stop what’s already in motion, but it ain’t too late to start over. You don’t gotta live with your mistakes forever.”

“But people won’t let you forget them, either,” Carol said.

“They the wrong damn type of people to be around that make you keep payin’ for a mistake your whole damned life,” Daryl said. “Hell—everybody’s got somethin’ they can hang their head about. It’s just some people keep it all good an’ hid better’n others. Some of us—we don’t get to hide it. Gotta learn to live with it. Fuck it if we gotta hang our heads about it forever, though.”

Daryl reached in his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. He plucked a cigarette from the pack and offered the pack in Carol’s direction. She waved away the offer and he put the pack on the table before he lit his cigarette and took a long draw off of it. 

“Merle was growed up when my old man died,” Daryl said. He was already wrapped up with the Judges. I was about thirteen—give or take. I don’t remember when it was exactly. Old man got killed. Went out one night drinkin’ like he done damn near every night. Just—didn’t come home. It weren’t like it surprised the whole damn town of Liberty or nothin’. Hell, the cops weren’t even surprised. They just come an’ said they found what was left of his body. Damn near scraped it up from a fall he took out in a rock quarry not too far from here. Said they figured the dumb bastard was sittin’ up there on the rim drinkin’ an’ he just fuckin’ fell. That was it. The end. Whole town knew about it. Talked about it. Just like they talked about my Ma when she burned the fuck up.” He hummed. “They still talkin’ about it. Right the fuck now you can bet that—they see you sittin’ here havin’ some lunch with me an’ they gonna be talkin’ about that new woman who was havin’ lunch with me.”

“Why keep talking about it?” Carol asked.

“Because there ain’t shit else to talk about in Liberty,” Daryl said. “It’s the land of gossip and conspiracy theories seeped in bless-your-damn-hearts and I’ma-pray-for-yous.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“Does it bother you?” Carol asked. 

“Do it bother you?” Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

Carol shook her head. 

“I don’t really care what they talk about, I guess,” Carol said. 

“Ditto,” Daryl said.

“I’m sorry about your—about your father,” Carol said.

“I ain’t,” Daryl said.

Carol accepted the sentiment and nodded her acceptance. 

“Can I ask a question?” Carol asked. “One that doesn’t really have to do with your father or...or my husband, or anything else that’s depressing?” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“I damn sure wish you would,” Daryl said. “How the hell’d we end up here anyway? I meant for you to have a nice day at the park an’ I don’t know how we ended up here.”

It was Carol’s turn to laugh. Daryl’s purposeful shift in mood was welcome and contagious.

“OK—we’re steering away from it,” Carol said. “Nobody’s allowed to talk about anything bad. But my question is—if someone’s talking about their ‘old man,’ how do you know if it’s their father or their...husband or boyfriend or whatever?” 

Daryl snorted.

“Context, mostly,” Daryl said. “Not everybody calls their father their old man. Some do. But—you knowed who I was talkin’ about. Same as like some old lady callin’ their boyfriend or husband their old man. Like—you know Merle ain’t Andrea’s daddy.” 

“But what if you don’t know?” Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. 

“I guess you ask,” Daryl said. “You good at that. You can handle it.”

“Do all the women call their boyfriends or husbands their old men?” Carol asked.

Daryl hummed. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean—I mean for the most part. In the Chambers. When they’re with the club. But I mean they call ‘em their husbands or their boyfriends or whatever too. Just like an’ old lady is an old lady, but that don’t mean that you can’t say she’s your wife or whatever.”

“So why even make a different name for it?” Carol asked.

“Because anybody can be wife material,” Daryl said. “But it ain’t all women that’s cut out to be an old lady. Not even close.”

“What’s so different about being an old lady?” Carol asked.

“Everything,” Daryl said. “I mean—to be an old lady? You gotta understand the club. That ain’t always an easy thing for people to do.”

“You could teach them about it,” Carol said.

“I don’t mean that kind of understanding,” Daryl said. “I mean—you gotta understand what the club means to everyone involved. That’s the kinda thing that’cha either get or you don’t. It can’t be taught. It’s like...”

“Trying to teach someone why blood isn’t necessarily thicker?” Carol asked.

Daryl smiled at her. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Somethin’ like that.” He stood up from his spot leaning against the table and dropped his spent cigarette butt into the soda can that he’d emptied earlier. “I’ll be right back. You can stay here. Looks like Soph’s got her eye on a different dinosaur.”

Carol watched him walk in the direction of her daughter. Sophia was bounding toward him and she only picked up her pace when she saw him coming, hands out. Already knowing his intention, Sophia raised her arms and practically sailed into Daryl’s waiting grasp. He heaved her up, held her tight against him, and followed her directions as she pointed out to him where she was hoping for him to take her. 

Sophia’s own “blood” hadn’t been really worth much at all. Everything she’d ever learned from her father was something that Carol hoped she forgot. The best thing, really, for Sophia was to have Ed removed entirely from her life. He’d been the man that had given Carol the necessary biological components to bring Sophia into the world, but that had been just about all the good that he’d ever brought to his daughter’s life.

Blood didn’t really mean much at all. Carol could see that more now than she ever could have before.

And she hoped that was a lesson that Sophia got to learn. 

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AN: I have to make a bit of a linguistic note here for anyone who might want to point this out to me in the future (and I only say it because it’s been pointed out to me before in other fics): 

 

In this story we’re going to see (among other things) doctors, lawyers, etc. that can speak proper English. Perhaps they even speak it sometimes, but fail to speak properly other times, especially given their situation. This does not mean that they suddenly forget how to speak English well. It doesn’t mean that they are not intelligent or even educated (nor does it mean that anyone not speaking English properly lacks intelligence or education, for that matter). What is taking place is a kind of “code switching”. This is where a speaker “switches” between several languages or language variations which they master. It’s often done when a speaker moves between different social classes or social situations. Different situations call for different ways of speaking, especially if the speaker wants to “blend” with their surroundings. 

It’s very real and it’s very common. There’s no need to inform me that you don’t think a doctor or a lawyer would speak in a certain dialect or would choose to use certainly vocabulary words. I’m not accidentally writing the characters’ dialects/linguistic variations to be a certain way. I promise you that the way in which the characters speak is something that I very carefully consider. 

I just wanted to address that in case anyone were to be concerned as we move forward. We’ll see code switching with some of the characters, especially as they move between their “Judge” identities and their outside social identities. 

I hope that you enjoyed the chapter and I hope you enjoy all that’s to come! Let me know what you think!


	17. Chapter 17

AN: Someone asked what a “cut” is, so I wanted to take a chance to explain. A “cut” is the vest/jacket that members of a motorcycle club wear to identify themselves as members of a particular club or chapter. The cuts display different information about members and the club. The cuts will look different for different “level” members. I hope this helps.

I’d also like to let everyone know that I haven’t abandoned anything. I’m changing jobs and moving and everything else so I’m just super busy. I’m also in a place where internet connection is hit or miss. I will update everything whenever I can. I appreciate your patience and your continuing support.

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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Andrea hadn’t asked about the trip to the park, but she didn’t have to ask to get Sophia’s opinion on things. As soon as she’d gotten home from work, unexpected groceries in hand, and expressed her desire to “run something by Carol”—that something being a “grill out” with Merle and Daryl before the Greene girl got there to sit with Sophia while the rest of them headed off to spend a late evening at the Chambers—Sophia had practically jumped at Andrea and declared the idea to be “great” because she and Daryl, apparently, were best friends for the moment. 

Daryl had won Sophia over entirely. His allowing her to switch animals as much as she pleased had only been outdone by his willingness to play with her by following commands, along with Carol, that she called down to them from the top of a jungle gym in the park. They’d spent at least half an hour running back and forth on the ground from one spot to another and performing tasks that their “queen” assigned to them as punishment for some crime they’d committed in the imaginary world that she’d conjured up. 

Daryl hadn’t complained about a bit of it. He hadn’t complained, either, when she’d insisted that he be the one to unwrap her food at the picnic or to put the straw in her juice box. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying Sophia’s attention almost as much as Sophia had been enjoying his. 

Sophia had never met a man who was willing to play with her. She’d never met a man who seemed quite so pleased by her continued presence and who kept egging her on to keep talking, laughing, and making silly faces as she told him ridiculous stories that she made up on the fly about kingdoms that didn’t exist and were filled with people and beasts that only she could see. 

Sophia was just a bit infatuated with her new friend and, for the moment, Carol wasn’t sure that she’d even processed how she felt about it all. 

Beyond anything, Carol didn’t want her daughter to get hurt.

She didn’t believe, though, that it was Daryl’s intention to hurt either of them. That fact, perhaps, seemed as strange to Carol as finding a new playmate in Daryl probably seemed to Sophia. It might have been easier for Carol to accept the existence of unicorns or the magical beasts that Sophia had described over her bologna sandwich.

Andrea asked Carol to follow her into her bedroom to “look at something” and she earned them a moment of privacy. They pushed the bedroom door closed and left Sophia in the living room happily watching cartoons on the couch as she cuddled the new doll that Andrea had brought her as a “welcome home” gift with the insistence that she would need nice things—especially if they were nice things to fulfill her needs or give her some security.

“I think I got Sophia’s thoughts on the matter, but I’d like to know yours. We can always tell Soph that we called and they were busy. We can fire up the grill ourselves. Have a girls’ night of hotdogs and hamburgers before you head to work,” Andrea said.

Carol sat down on Andrea’s bed with a sigh.

“And then I keep you away from your boyfriend even more than I already do,” Carol said.

Andrea laughed to herself.

“Merle’s resourceful,” Andrea said. “We do OK. We took lunch together while you were at the park. How’d your time at the park go, by the way? I heard from Soph, but what about you? If you don’t mind me asking?” 

Carol swallowed. She shrugged her shoulders. 

“It was wonderful,” Carol said. “It was—the best day that I’ve had in...so long I can’t remember when. Maybe that’s the worst part of it all.”

Andrea laughed. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against her dresser. There was something of a smirk playing at her lips.

“It’s hardly a tragedy to have a good time, Carol,” Andrea said.

“Maybe it feels like it is,” Carol said. “Even though I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“Was it Daryl?” Andrea asked, furrowing her brow. 

“It was absolutely Daryl,” Carol said. She laughed to herself. “It was Daryl that made the day so—perfect.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Andrea asked. “Because I haven’t seen you look this downtrodden since you got here.”

Carol rolled her eyes up toward the woman that she was beginning to regard as a friend—a best friend, even. She shook her head. 

“I keep thinking that he likes me,” Carol said. “But I’m not sure. I don’t know if he—likes me like...a friend or...”

“Something more?” Andrea asked.

Carol sighed.

“Something more,” she echoed.

“Would it make you feel any different if you had an answer?” Andrea asked. “If you knew what he was thinking?” 

“It might,” Carol said. She shrugged her shoulders. “I honestly don’t know. What do I do, Andrea? I’m a married woman...”

“Separated,” Andrea said. “Getting divorced.”

“I have a five year old,” Carol pointed out. 

“Precious,” Andrea said. “And from what I hear, it sounds like they already get along.” 

Andrea sighed and dropped her arms. She stood up and walked over to the bed to sit down next to Carol. She dropped onto the mattress so hard that the whole bed shook and Carol’s hand shot out to grab the footboard and steady herself.

“Do you want him to like you, Carol, or do you want him not to like you?” Andrea asked. “Do you even know that much?” 

“Daryl seems like such a good man,” Carol said. 

Andrea smiled to herself.

“Daryl is a very good man,” Andrea assured Carol. “The best kind of man there is. A man of honor.”

“I married a man that I loved,” Carol said. “A good man. At least, I thought he was a good man. Even once I started to see signs of the cracks—I thought he was a good man. He just made mistakes. More than that, I made him make those mistakes. I drove him to the things that he did. He couldn’t help it. It was me. It was always me.”

“It was never you,” Andrea said. She sighed. “No matter what they say, everyone is responsible for how they act. You can’t control another person. He has the responsibility to be a man and walk away if he’s so damned mad that he can’t stand it. Merle’s walked away from me before.”

“But he’s never hit you?” Carol asked.

Andrea laughed to herself.

“Not on purpose,” Andrea said. 

“Not on purpose?” Carol asked.

“Some of the club took him to court—in the club—once because they thought he hit me. He gave me a black eye. He didn’t hit me, though. At least—not on purpose. It was a...” She broke off and cleared her throat. “It was a position change. It went wrong. I zigged when he thought I would zag and—smack. I had to beg Al to speak for me and swear that I wasn’t just trying to cover for him. Since then we’ve had a couple accidents. Same kind of thing. But Merle Dixon has never put his hands on me in anger. The closest he’s come is maybe grabbing my arm, but he pulls back pretty quickly. Realizes what he’s doing. Catches himself. Walks away.”

Andrea caught Carol’s eyes and she held them. She shook her head at Carol and lowered her voice. 

“I won’t tell you that he doesn’t come with demons,” Andrea said. “They all do. Hell—we all do. Merle and Daryl are no different. You’ll learn. The longer you’re here—the more you’re involved—the more you’ll learn. They’ve got their shit. The same as anybody else. But I’ll tell you that—demons or not—Daryl Dixon is as good a man as you could ever ask to know.”

“I believe that,” Carol said, her chest tightening. “And I think—maybe that’s what scares me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those who can’t stand the idea of a good guy,” Andrea said. She laughed to herself. “Believe me, honey. If it’s your thing, there’s probably plenty enough bad in there if you really want it. But it’ll be the kind of bad that’s focused on getting you off—not on knocking you out.”

Carol shook her head.

“It isn’t that,” Carol said. “I know you say that Ed was responsible for the way that he acted. And I totally believe that. But what if there was something I did that really did cause him to change and to act that way? What if I was really so horrible to live with, Andrea? To be around. I wouldn’t want to do that to Daryl...”

Andrea laughed and shook her head. 

“I’ve been living with you,” Andrea pointed out. “And I haven’t felt like changing. I haven’t felt anything negative at all. Maybe we need to work on our bathroom schedule a little bit, but that kind of thing’s always to be expected.” She dropped her hand over Carol’s shoulder. “Honey—you don’t change a man. Never. Not for better or for worse. Merle has taught me that over the past twenty years. You better like what you pick out when you pick it out because that’s what you get. He might do some changing of his own like we all do, but the fundamental aspects of who he is? That just is what it is. Nothing you do is going to make him a whole different person.”

Carol swallowed and nodded her head. She laughed to herself. 

“I’m worried about something like this and—I don’t even know if Daryl likes me like that,” Carol said. “I might be worrying about something happening in the future that he’s never even thought about.” 

Andrea laughed again. She tightened her hold on Carol’s shoulder to pull the woman into her. 

“He might not be that far in the future, but he’s a man,” Andrea said. “He’s at least thought about it. Still—you might want to start thinking about whether or not you want him to like you. If he’s anything like his brother, I can tell you that Dixons are straightforward when it comes to most everything. He might not lead into it too slowly. You’ve got to be prepared to address it when he sort of—drops it on the table in front of you and says ‘well here it is, what are you gonna do about it?’”

Carol laughed quietly at Andrea’s words and shook her head as she considered them.

“I don’t know what I want, not for sure,” Carol said. “But I think I know which way I’m leaning. I have to admit, I’m a little nervous, though. I mean—it’s been a long time since I’ve dated anyone. I may not know how to handle it any better than that myself. Worse than that—what if I start thinking about what I’d like and it turns out that Daryl isn’t even thinking about that?” 

Andrea sighed.

“I’ll see what I can do to get a little insight into lil’ brother’s mind,” Andrea said. “For the time being—I’d say just enjoy yourself. I can promise you that Daryl—well, any man, Carol—isn’t going to care if you’re a little rusty. Maybe Daryl especially. Have a good time. Maybe—let him know a little about how you feel. Let him know he’s not walking head first into something that’s going to embarrass him.”

Carol nodded. Andrea kissed her temple and stood up.

“For tonight, have a burger with him,” Andrea said. “Stop worrying about later and think about—just about—a burger with the Dixons tonight. How’s that sound?” 

Carol swallowed and nodded again.

“Good,” Carol said. “It sounds great, actually.”

“Good,” Andrea said. “I’ll give ‘em a call.” She started toward the bedroom door and stopped just as her hand touched the knob. She turned back to Carol. “Just one thing...”

“What?” Carol asked.

“If you don’t want him,” Andrea said, “then let him down easy. Don’t ruin him for someone else like some women would do, OK? And don’t ruin the whole relationship thing for him. He’s—well, he’s not that experienced. OK? So—if you don’t want him, just let him down easy and let him go find someone who does want him. He deserves that.” 

“You don’t want to see him hurt,” Carol said. Andrea shook her head. “Me either,” Carol agreed. “Not at all.”

“Then we understand one another,” Andrea said. “Come on—start patting out our hamburger patties. I’ll make the call.”


	18. Chapter 18

AN: Here we are, another chapter here! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl kept tossing her smiles that, almost in spite of herself, kept putting a smile on her own face. Early in the day, at the park, the smiles he’d given her were soft half-smiles that were barely there. He’d seemed shy about them and he’d practically licked them off his lips the very second that he’d noticed Carol looking in his direction. Now, though, perhaps given a bit more confidence by the invitation to spend more time with her or by the solidarity to be found in the company of his brother and Andrea, Daryl was offering her broader smiles that he allowed to linger a little longer on his lips. It was as though he didn’t care who, at least at their small and impromptu barbecue, saw them.

“How you wan’tcha cow? Dead and cremated like Andrea or still pleadin’ for his damned life like me?” Merle asked, arranging hamburger patties on Andrea’s grill. “Lemme know so I know whose is goin’ on first an’ for how long.”

“I want him so he can still be saved,” Daryl commented.

“In between for me,” Carol offered. “But make Sophia’s very well done.”

Merle didn’t have to look far to find Sophia. She was doing her best to be in all places at once, and she was more than willing to oversee the food preparation just the same as she’d helped Andrea bring out the condiments and such. Carol had asked her daughter to stay out from under foot when Daryl and Merle had first gotten there, but Merle had pulled her to the side and very sincerely asked her to let Sophia enjoy herself and to not be worried about her bothering anybody because none of them—full grown as they were—were unable to handle the antics of a five year old girl.

Sophia, fully free to be herself and so excited by her company that she was practically vibrating, kept herself busy by trying to be at all places at once to entertain everyone at the same time. At least she would sleep well that night from having absolutely exhausted herself with constant activity.

“You don’t like a lil’ blood in your meat, kid?” Merle asked. He laughed to himself when Sophia recoiled slightly from the question. She didn’t leave his side, though.

“Ewww, no!” She declared.

“Why not?” Merle pressed.

“It’s gross,” Sophia responded.

Andrea walked up behind Merle and wrapped her arms around him before she planted a kiss on his cheek. She stayed there with her arms around him and addressed Sophia.

“You’re right, Soph,” Andrea said. “It is gross. That’s why you and me? We’ve gotta stick together. Eat burgers the way they were meant to be eaten. Cooked. Gimme five.”

Andrea offered her hand out to Sophia and Sophia slapped it as requested. 

“Bullshit,” Merle crowed. “Everybody knows that eatin’ your meat with blood in it’ll put hair on your chest. See there?” 

Merle raised his shirt up to display his chest hair and Sophia looked at him, open-mouthed, while she took in the reality of Merle’s hairy chest. 

Carol laughed to herself when Sophia dived into an argument with Merle about whether or not said chest hair was a good thing. Deciding that Merle had told the truth and that Sophia—loud and excited and attempting to be entirely involved—was fine just as she was, Carol walked over to where Daryl was sitting at Andrea’s small picnic table, some distance away, smoking a cigarette.

“Can I sit?” Carol asked.

Daryl patted the bench seat next to him. The table was already spread with condiments, paper plates, napkins, drinks, toppings for the burgers, and some assorted bags of potato chips. Andrea had thought of everything. It was clear to Carol that these little family dinners must be fairly common, and she found herself somewhat comforted by that fact. It was nice to share a meal with other people who were happy to be there, and she hoped to do it again in the future. 

“Any time you want,” Daryl said. “You ain’t even gotta ask. I don’t own the seat.”

“I don’t remember if I thanked you,” Carol said.

“For?” Daryl asked.

“Everything, really,” Carol said. “But—mostly I meant for today. The park. The picnic.”

“How about you don’t owe no thanks for something when I enjoyed it too,” he responded. 

“Sophia had such a good time,” Carol said. 

“You didn’t?” Daryl asked.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Carol said quickly. 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Yeah—I reckon I know what you meant,” Daryl said. “She’s a good kid. If anybody ever tells you different, you just don’t listen to ‘em.” 

Carol nodded her head. 

“I just wanted you to know that I appreciate it,” Carol said.

Daryl shook his head. Carol swallowed down her desire to insist, for whatever reason, that Daryl fully accept her thanks. She knew that, in his own way, Daryl accepted it. Maybe he simply struggled with some words. Carol understood that. She struggled with words, too, sometimes—especially around Daryl, it seemed.

“You do this often?” Carol asked.

“Do what?” Daryl asked.

Carol fanned her arms out to signal the space around her. 

“This,” she said. 

“Dinner?” Daryl asked, glancing behind him at the picnic table that was loaded down with everything they’d need once the meat was cooked on the grill and ready to be eaten. Carol nodded. Daryl laughed to himself. “Eat dinner damn near every night if I’m lucky.”

Carol laughed.

“Asshole,” she teased. “You know exactly what I meant. Together. As a family.”

Carol saw the pleased expression run across Daryl’s features at her description of their dinner as a family dinner. Maybe he hadn’t exactly thought of it that way before and he enjoyed the way that it sounded. 

He hummed at her. 

“Right regular,” he responded. “Not every night, but...I’d say at least a couple times a week. Sometimes more. Sometimes we’re here. Sometimes it’s at mine and Merle’s place.”

“I don’t know where you live,” Carol mused. “I’ve never been to your place.”

“You will,” Daryl said. Immediately he looked like he’d been unexpectedly splashed in the face with a bucket of iced water. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Didn’t mean that like you was...or even that you had to...just that...well, if you were thinkin’ on stayin’ in Liberty an’ especially if you were gonna stay with Andrea...”

Before he could get too severely tangled up in his apologetic explanation for something that Carol hadn’t found the least bit offensive, and before he could draw the attention of everyone having their own conversation at the grill about the merits of and differences between tater tots and French fries as side options, Carol did the only thing that she could think to do. She reached her hand over and patted Daryl’s leg. He stopped talking abruptly, looked at her hand, and then looked her in the eyes. He seemed to struggle to swallow and Carol offered him a soft smile.

“It’s OK,” she offered quietly. “I think I understand what you meant. And—however you meant it, I’d like to know where you live. I’d like to see it sometime.”

“Nothin’ much to see,” Daryl said. “But—you welcome to see it when you want. But—uh—you gotta ask. ‘Cause I asked about the park. Don’t wanna feel like I’m pushin’ you, ya know? Like you feel like you ain’t got no choice but to go along with somethin’ ‘cause you been asked. So—I’m thinkin’ whatever it is? That’cha might wanna do next, if there’s somethin’ that you might wanna do? You gotta ask.”

Carol swallowed. Her heartbeat had suddenly kicked up a notch. The sensation was a little frightening, but it was also a little exhilarating. She nodded and smiled.

“I like that,” Carol said. 

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her.

“That you gotta ask?” Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself. She nodded her head. 

“Maybe—that you give me the chance to ask,” Carol said. “That you give me—something. Control or whatever it is. I like that.”

Daryl’s cheeks ran red. He chewed his lip and nodded his head. He brought his thumb up to harass it when chewing his lip wasn’t enough to distract him entirely.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. Yeah—control or...or whatever. You got it. You—you want somethin’? You let me know. You’ll know where to find me.”

“Hanging around the Chambers?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. He cut his eyes in her direction. She recognized that he was doing his best to give her a playful warning look, but he kept the half-smile on his lips to make it clear that he wasn’t really bothered. He had the kind of face that could easily look cross and he was clearly aware of that. Carol could see where that might come in handy for him, but maybe he didn’t want Carol to accidentally read him wrong when he only meant to tease her a bit. Carol raised her eyebrows at him in response. “Maybe—you’ll be hanging around there tonight? After we close?” 

“Somebody’s gotta make sure it all gets locked up good,” Daryl said. 

“Gotta get the House Mouse home,” Carol teased. 

“Somebody’s gotta do it,” Daryl said, letting his voice trail off, the humor not having left it yet. “Why—you had somethin’ in mind for the hours of the damn mornin’ when every decent person oughta be asleep?” Carol shrugged her shoulders. Daryl shook his head at her. “No,” he said. “You done started it. Finish sayin’ it. Maybe—you gonna be surprised. Maybe—you hear what’cha wanna hear. You got somethin’ in mind?”

Carol’s heart thundered so hard that she almost felt like grabbing her chest and holding her hand over it to make sure that it didn’t pound its way out entirely.

“I’m sure you have to work tomorrow,” Carol said. “Early.” 

She glanced in the direction of Merle and Andrea. Merle was holding Sophia propped up on his hip while he was, apparently, at least pretending to teach her something about the finer points of grilling. She was enthralled with everything he said and Andrea was simply standing next to him, arms crossed, looking on. She looked almost as enthralled with what Merle was saying as Sophia did—or maybe she was just wrapped up in having Sophia there for them to dote on. 

Either way, they couldn’t have been ignoring Carol and Daryl more if they tried.

Carol jumped when she felt Daryl’s hand touch her chin and turn her face toward him. He held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to...”

“It’s OK,” Carol said.

“What’cha want?” Daryl asked. “’Cause I gotta work tomorrow, sure, but it wouldn’t be my first late night. Won’t be my last.” 

Carol licked her lips and shrugged her shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “Not really. But—my daughter will be sleeping. Safe here with Andrea. Maybe—we could...take the long way home? Ride the bike a little more? I’m just getting used to the way that it feels to ride with you...”

“Feels good,” Daryl offered. “To have you on the back...I mean...it feels good to you?” 

Carol nodded her head. 

“I think so,” she said. “I think it does.” 

“Maybe we—just take the long way around tonight,” Daryl said. “Liberty—she’s awful quiet at them hours.”

Carol smiled to herself.

“I like the quiet,” she offered.

“Me too,” Daryl said. 

“So—tonight we’ll...just ride? Somewhere?” Carol asked.

Daryl nodded his head. 

“That what’cha want?” He asked.

“I think so,” Carol said. “I think that’s what I want.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Daryl said, his voice barely coming out loud enough for Carol to hear it. He’d seen her watching his brother and Andrea. He knew that she wasn’t trying to draw too much attention to them. 

Carol smiled at him when he cut his eyes in her direction to see how she’d react to what he said. 

“And then,” Carol said, “I’d say it’s your turn to ask again.” He opened his mouth to protest and Carol renewed her smile. She shook her head. “It’s only fair,” she insisted. 

Daryl looked away quickly, but she caught a smile playing at his lips before he turned away from her entirely. He got up from the table and quickly crossed the small space between them and the grill, closing in on his brother.

“The hell, Merle!” Daryl called out, reintegrating himself into the group. “You’d save money just servin’ Andrea a damn chunk a’ charcoal with how damn burnt you got them burgers...Soph...we’ll make you a burger up like you like it, but then you take you a bite of mine. Just a bite—we’ll show you the proper way to eat a burger an’ you ain’t never gonna go back to these lil’ burnt up cow-nuggets Andrea would be happy to feed’ja.”

Carol laughed to herself. She got up and took the empty platter from the table. She started toward the grill with it at just the moment that Merle turned to ask her to do just that. 

“Mouse—how’s about...”

“I bring the platter?” Carol asked. “I’m one step ahead of you, Merle.”

“And that’s why the hell you the best damn House Mouse we ever had,” Merle mused. “I don’t give a damn what Daryl says about you...”

Carol laughed to herself when Daryl playfully slugged his brother in the shoulder. She wasn’t sure that Daryl wasn’t talking about her to Merle when she wasn’t around—especially since she knew that she hadn’t exactly avoided speaking about him, entirely, to Andrea—but she was pretty sure that he wasn’t saying anything bad. 

“That’s alright, Merle,” Carol teased. “You’re pretty OK yourself—no matter what Andrea says about you.”


	19. Chapter 19

AN: Here we are, another chapter here! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Merle didn’t have to watch Daryl for more than a second to see where his attention was focused. Daryl had moved from losing a pool game—mostly owing to a mean case of distraction—to doing just about as poorly at a game of cards that he abandoned after folding his first hand; a move that he’d likely made without even knowing what he was holding. Now he was holding down his favorite stool while Alice chewed on his ear a bit, but even Alice had to know that he wasn’t listening to a single word that she said. 

Daryl was focused on the Mouse that was scuttling around the room and he was clearly blind and deaf to anything else. 

Carol was a fine House Mouse in that she engaged any and all the brothers. She anticipated everyone’s needs before they even knew they had them. As a result—and also owing to the fact that there was rarely anybody new in Liberty—Carol held the attention of at least half the club. 

Daryl wasn’t the only one with his mouth all set for a taste of that little woman, either, and Merle damn near wished he could issue a club decree that it was forbidden for anyone except Daryl to so much as think about barking up that tree. He hated the idea of anyone moving faster than Daryl in getting to Carol or being a little better versed in the fairer sex and getting her attention first and more completely than his little brother.

Merle’s baby brother was a little bit of a late bloomer, perhaps, but it was mostly because had beliefs about what he wanted and how relationships ought to go. He had real strong beliefs about it all. And Daryl’s beliefs were a great deal different than those held by most of the assholes that surrounded him. Daryl was thinking about things that most of them didn’t even want to entertain. He had beliefs that had often made Andrea joke that, if she weren’t so pleased with the good quality fucking that she could get from Merle, she might just consider that she’d chosen the wrong Dixon to warm her bed.

Daryl was just a little bit different than most of the others.

Everyone wanted to hold the attention of the Mouse, but the difference was that Merle knew that his baby brother wanted her attention for more than a night or two. He could see it in Daryl’s eyes that he was all but set on her, and Daryl had never—not as far as Merle ever knew, at least—been set on nobody. Not like this.

He’d be good for that little woman, too. She could do a great deal worse than to have Daryl’s affections. From the looks of her healing face and from what Andrea told him, she’d already done a great deal worse for herself. Daryl would never let something like that happen to her again. None of the brothers would lay a hand on her like that—such behavior was explicitly forbidden in the club and none of them were even inclined to behave that way—but Daryl would take it extra personally if someone so much as thought of putting their hands on her in a way that she didn’t find to her liking.

Of course, the Mouse wasn’t exactly ignoring Daryl. She gave attention to every brother that was steady putting tips in her jar, but she wasn’t ignoring Daryl either—even if his tips went quietly into the jar in a lump sum at the end of the night that she might not even know was coming from him. 

Carol had circled around Daryl so many times during the night that his beer had hardly had the chance to sweat before she’d replaced it with a fresh one. She’d spent the day with him and she’d given him plenty of reason to keep on talking to her over dinner. Even though she was staying busy, she wasn’t ignoring Daryl and she wasn’t letting him forget that she was there. 

And Andrea seemed sure that Carol wasn’t the kind to come after someone like Daryl just to watch him squirm before she crushed him. 

She was a soft little thing—too soft and sweet to go breaking hearts for the sport of it.

She might be just sweet enough for his little brother if Daryl could manage to let his intentions be known and stake his claim before his others brothers got in there first. 

“You got some kinda love affair I oughta know about going on with the wall, Merle?” Merle hummed. Andrea’s voice was only barely beginning to seep into his senses. He turned his head to look at her. She was just settling into the empty chair at his left. She hadn’t been there long. He hummed at her again. “You’ve been staring at that wall long enough that Wren was telling me that you were going to buy it a ring. I was starting to believe him.”

Merle reached his hand over and patted Andrea’s hand. He laughed halfheartedly at the teasing about his love for a wall.

“No. It ain’t nothin’ like that,” he finally answered. “I wasn’t even staring at the wall. At least—I weren’t starin’ at it to start.”

“You want to tell me what you were staring at?” Andrea asked. “What’s going on, Merle? What’s on your mind? You’ve got that line.” She gestured at her forehead. “Between your eyes.”

“I was staring at Carol,” Merle said. “At least—that’s how it started.”

Andrea shifted and looked behind her. Over her shoulder, she located Carol. She watched her for a half a second before she turned back to look at Merle. She smiled at him, the corner of her mouth just barely turning up with the smirk.

“Should I be worried?” Andrea asked. There was some humor to her tone. Merle couldn’t detect any genuine worry there. If either of them could ever be accused of being jealous or the slightest bit insecure, it was Merle and never Andrea. She was confident that Merle—even if he flirted a little every now and again for the rush that it gave him—was always coming back to her. Two decades, more or less, had passed and she hadn’t been wrong yet.

To humor her, though, Merle shook his head and squeezed her hand in his.

“I was looking at Daryl, too. Watchin’ him watchin’ her.” Merle shook his head to finish and let the words trail off. He didn’t want to talk about it there, and besides that he had a taste for the woman who was letting him hold her hand. He stood up and tugged at Andrea’s arm so she would follow him. “Come on, Sugar. Let’s get the hell outta here. It’s gettin’ too damned late and it seems like these here assholes won’t even start cleanin’ out ‘til we do.”

Andrea didn’t protest Merle’s request to call it a night. She was usually happy to leave whenever he was. Merle didn’t announce he was leaving, but he really didn’t have to. Most of the members noticed when he stood up and he simply caught Daryl’s eye and nodded at him before he slipped out the door with Andrea trotting along behind him to keep up with the hand that he was tugging. Daryl would see to it that Teeter got put to bed somewhere and he’d see that Carol got home—not that Merle thought his baby brother needed too much reminding to look out for the Mouse.

Outside, Merle offered Andrea the helmet that she’d worn on the way to the bar. Merle wore the thing when he didn’t have Andrea riding bitch, but he passed it over to her the minute she was ready to throw a leg over his bike. If anybody’s head was getting busted open somewhere like a damned cantaloupe, Merle preferred that it was his over Andrea’s any day. She had her own helmet, of course, but mostly Merle only ever bothered to bring it if they were going somewhere outside of the painfully slow speed zones of Liberty.

Andrea didn’t immediately put the helmet on. She turned it around in her hands like she hadn’t seen it a million times before.

“You want to talk about it, Merle?” Andrea asked. “Or you just wanted to fuck it out...whatever it is?” 

Merle laughed to himself. Andrea knew him, and she knew him well. Some things he wanted to talk about. Other things he liked to simply “fuck out,” as Andrea put it. There were other things, still, that required a mixture of the two. Andrea was good for all three—whichever it might be that Merle found he needed to handle any given situation. 

Merle looked around them. They weren’t entirely alone, but they also weren’t drawing the attention of anyone milling about the parking lot, smoking cigarettes, and telling bullshit stories.

Merle lit his own cigarette. As long as they were standing there for a minute, he might as well smoke. Andrea reached for the cigarette and he passed it to her before he lit another for himself.

“Just tell me she ain’t in this shit for sport,” Merle said. “Help me sleep a lil’ better at night.”

Andrea furrowed her brow at him, but it didn’t take her long to follow along with what he was saying. 

“She never intended to be in this at all,” Andrea said. “She landed in Liberty to save that little girl. Maybe she hoped to save her own ass in the process. She didn’t come here to fuck with anybody, Merle. Not literally and not figuratively.”

“But now that she’s here,” Merle started. He didn’t bother finishing the statement because he didn’t believe it himself. Instead, he sighed and changed the direction of his thoughts. “He’s slow-moving. Like a damned turtle. That’s what the hell he is.”

Andrea hummed and nodded her head. She thoughtfully puffed on her cigarette. 

“And she spooks easily,” Andrea said after a moment of contemplation. “Slow movements don’t spook someone quite the same as fast movements do.”

“If someone else gets there first,” Merle said, leaving it hanging again. Andrea wasn’t new to Merle or Daryl. She knew the whole club and all its members like the back of her hand. She could talk to most of them without ever exchanging words, and she spoke Dixon as though it were her native language.

“Might light a fire under him,” Andrea said. “Might be good for him. Sometimes people don’t know how much they want something until they think that they can’t have it.”

“He ain’t never really wanted nothin’ like that. Nothin’ real. Nothin’ concrete like that,” Merle said. “I hate to see him miss out on it just ‘cause...”

“You don’t give her a lot of credit for having free thought, Merle, you know that?” Andrea said quickly, cutting him off. “Maybe she doesn’t want anyone. Maybe she just wants to be a nun. Or—maybe she already knows what she wants. Maybe she just wants to—you know—take it slow. Let it happen. Maybe she don’t like sudden movements.”

“That what you think?” Merle asked.

Andrea smiled at him. She reached her hand up and touched his cheek.

“I love you,” Andrea said softly. “For many reasons, but—mostly for how you love what’s yours. You can’t run everything in Daryl’s life. One of the things you have to do is trust that Daryl can find something of his own to love.” Andrea raised her eyebrows at him. “And—just maybe...he already has.”

“That boy don’t take long to get set on somethin’,” Merle said. “It ain’t him I’m worried about around here.”

“You gotta trust, Merle, that she’s going to know what she wants too. If she doesn’t? He’s better off without her anyway. He wouldn’t be happy with someone that wasn’t sure that he was exactly what she wanted—because he’s going to be sure when he makes some kinda move. But with Daryl? That move—whatever move he makes? It probably won’t be a sprint. If that’s what she wants...” Andrea let her voice trail off for a moment. When she picked up speaking again, she picked up with a different thought that was a little farther down the tracks than where she’d left off. “I’ve got a hunch, though, that he’s just about her speed.”


	20. Chapter 20

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol closed her eyes and pressed her face against Daryl’s shoulder blade. She tightened her hold on his body and she heard the sound of the engine change as Daryl let up on the gas a little. He mistook her movement as one of being insecure on the bike. Carol didn’t correct him. Instead, she simply loosened her grip a little and Daryl returned to the speed they’d been travelling at before, only slowing the bike when they neared another stretch of curvy road where Carol would lean closer into him and sway her body with his as they rode the twists and turns that stretched out before them.

She felt like she was swimming. She felt like she was suspended in water or space. She was somewhere where her feet didn’t quite touch the ground and her mind wasn’t wholly rooted in her reality. She was bathed in the night air that was comfortable but had just a hint of coolness that occasionally ran the full length of her spine as she rode behind Daryl. Whatever warmth her clothes failed to give her, Carol found radiating off of the body of the man in front of her. She pressed her face against his shoulder blade once more and inhaled deeply. He wouldn’t be able to hear her—not with the sound of the engine. There was something strangely comforting, though, about the smell that filled her nostrils. It was the smell of leather and oil, perhaps. There was something else there that Carol couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was simply the smell of Daryl.

Maybe it was the smell of a decent man.

The kind of man who didn’t mind spending his whole day playing with a child that wasn’t his. A man who had let that same child sit next to him and bug him during dinner because he wouldn’t ever tell her that he didn’t want to answer a single question more about the mysteries of the universe that nobody at the table could comprehend well enough to explain them to a child.

The kind of man who would take Carol on a peaceful bike ride and make her feel like he didn’t expect anything in return but her company—even if some part of her mind didn’t think that sharing more with him would be all that terrible.

Carol felt like she was swimming—entirely out of touch with her reality—but it was an amazing feeling. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms tightly around Daryl once more, and sighed when she heard the change in the motor. When Daryl moved, she moved with him. She didn’t need to see the road ahead of her. She didn’t want to. She simply felt where he was going and drifted with him.

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“Pitch-fuckin’-black out here,” Daryl said. “You’da thought I woulda thought of that. But I ain’t been out here this late before when I weren’t with ten or fifteen other people. Didn’t give credit to the idea that it was prob’ly lit up ‘cause they all had headlights an’ shit on. Hold to my hand. Don’t fall.”

He had nothing more than the small flashlight that he normally kept in his saddle bag to light the way. The distance from the road to the lake wasn’t too far, but it was farther with no light than it was when it was daylight. Every step had him concerned that he was about to drop into a hole or let Carol drop down into one.

But if she was worried, she wasn’t letting on. She simply held to Daryl’s hand—or rather to his forearm—and walked along with him.

“It feels like we rode forever,” Carol mused.

“Saddle sore?” Daryl asked.

“What?” Carol asked.

Daryl swallowed. He hadn’t exactly meant to go with a knee-jerk response. Carol hadn’t heard him or she hadn’t understood him, though, so he could still save himself.

“Nothin’,” he said. “Maybe it’s just you ain’t used to bein’ on the bike more’n the time it takes to get you to Andrea’s. We rode—I’d say it’s a good fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty ‘cause I was takin’ them curves kinda easy.”

“It was longer than that,” Carol said. She sounded sure of herself, but when she spoke again, she’d lost some of that confidence. “Wasn’t it? Was it really only fifteen minutes?” 

“Twenty,” Daryl said, trying to make her feel better for guessing the time wrong. “Twenty-five, maybe. Hard to tell. Was it too long for you? Didn’t mean to keep you out too late. I know Andrea’s got Sophia an’ all.”

“It’s not too late,” Carol said. “And it’s not too far. I wanted to ride. I wanted to—to go somewhere. That’s what we did—what we’re doing. And now you’ve brought me to...”

“Righteous Lake,” Daryl said. He laughed to himself. “I swear that’s the name of it. I ain’t just shittin’ you.” He shined the flashlight out over the water and the light reflected on it. On the other side of the water there were some houses and some light shined out from streetlights that had been put there and reflected on that side of the water. “Ain’t much of a lake. You can’t see it real good right now, but it’s hardly bigger’n the Greene pond.”

“You have a righteous lake in this town and a green pond?” Carol asked. Something like a giggle escaped her and Daryl smiled to himself. He liked the sound of it. He liked, too, the way that her fingers felt curling around his forearm. He liked the way she swayed a little on her feet, every now and again as they stood there, and occasionally leaned into him to steady herself. 

Maybe forgetting to bring a better light wasn’t such a bad thing. She wouldn’t have had any need to get this close to him if he’d had a better light—and Daryl wasn’t as good as some of the brothers at knowing how to get people close to him.

“Man with the last name Greene owns the pond,” Daryl said. “Or owns the land that the pond sits on—I don’t really know if you can own a pond.”

“And Righteous Lake?” Carol asked.

Daryl hummed.

“Story is that one of the first people who ever settled in Liberty built him a church out here,” Daryl said. “Some sticks n’ mud kinda place, ya know? Said he named the lake that—Righteous Lake— an’ it was used for all his baptizin’ an’ church-like gatherings. I don’t know if it’s true. The family that bought the place out some long time ago dedicated it to be a public park. They owned this here side here. Still do, so it’s open to the public. Other side over there was owned by someone who sold it out to build them lake houses you see. Them that live on that side of the lake’s some of the richest people that live in Liberty.” Daryl laughed to himself. “Most of ‘em don’t like some of the stuff that goes on on this side of the lake. If you ask me, I bet that righteous man prob’ly wouldn’t care for it none neither.”

“It’s beautiful out here,” Carol said. “At least—from what I can see.”

Daryl hummed again. She held to his arm even as he moved to get a cigarette for himself. She never dropped her hold. Instead she simply moved when he moved like she could anticipate what he was going to do next.

That was exactly how she’d ridden the bike. 

Daryl had never ridden with someone who got that close to him before. Or, if any of the women who had ridden with him before had gotten that close, it had never felt the way that it did with Carol. She just fit right up against him like the bike was made to seat the two of them together. It sent a shiver down Daryl’s spine when he thought about it.

“Cold?” Carol asked.

He wasn’t cold at all. In fact, he was almost hot enough to want to strip out of the clothes he was wearing and take a dip in the lake. He couldn’t explain the shiver, though, so he faked a chill.

“Fall’s comin’,” he said. He immediately wanted to kick himself. If she owned a calendar she knew what the hell season was on its way in. She didn’t need him stating the painfully obvious.

Carol sucked in a breath and let it out in a contented sigh. At least she didn’t rag him for stating the obvious. Daryl offered her his cigarette, but she refused it and he set to smoking it. 

“You can tell the fall’s coming from the sounds,” Carol said. “It always sounds different when the summer’s winding down. It smells different, too.”

“Smells—cooler,” Daryl said. “I don’t know if temperatures have a smell, but...”

“I know what you mean,” Carol said. She tightened her hold on Daryl’s arm again and swayed toward him, bumping him. He didn’t say anything to her. He took the flashlight that he’d been holding under his other arm and shined it around them. 

“You can’t see shit out here,” Daryl said. “I shoulda thought of that ‘fore I dragged your ass out here to look at the lake an’ then it was too dark for you to even see the damned thing.”

Carol laughed quietly in the darkness. 

“I always thought—I guess I’ve seen too many movies,” Carol said. “Because when you stopped the bike and when you told me we were at the lake? I was thinking to myself that nobody goes to the lake at night to look at the water.”

“Well no they don’t. Not if they was smart enough to think ahead of time that it’s too damned dark to see shit. Still, I guess you don’t just look at it,” Daryl said. “You can listen to it, too. Especially if somebody’s got a boat or somethin’ tied up out here? We bring ‘em up to drift in on the water every now and again. Them little two-person canoes. You tie ‘em up out here an’ the water just sorta slaps against ‘em. It’s from the waves that the breeze makes on the water—if there’s any breeze at all. Of course—I bring you up here an’ there ain’t no real breeze to speak of and not a thing tied up.” He laughed. “I guess—I just didn’t think it through.”

“And I guess—what I was saying—was that I didn’t think that you brought me up here to see the lake,” Carol said. “Not really.”

Daryl’s stomach tightened. 

Her voice was soft. He could imagine her talking him to sleep. He could imagine closing his eyes and listening to her talk just like he liked listening to the sound of the water lapping at the bottom of the two-man canoe that Crockett always liked to haul to the lake. 

When Daryl closed his eyes with Carol there, holding tight to his forearm with her body just barely brushing next to his, he could almost feel like he did when it was a Saturday and he was lying out there on a blanket, next to the water, dozing on a beer buzz.

He could feel that sensation of floating—like he was just a few feet above himself and outside of everything that didn’t simply make him feel good.

But his feet were firmly planted on the ground and he’d finished no more than four beers in the whole course of the day. 

Daryl swallowed.

“What’d you think I brought you up here for?” He ventured.

Carol sighed again like she had earlier. 

“It’s peaceful out here,” she said.

“Still,” Daryl said. “Not another soul around for miles—except them that live across the water over there. But they asleep. Everybody is.”

“Romantic,” Carol said. Daryl swallowed. He flashed the beam of light in her direction. He illuminated her face so that she looked like she might tell him a ghost story. She smirked at him and pursed her lips. She rocked on her feet, sending the beam dancing a little as Daryl’s whole body rocked with her. “Wanna—screw around?” 

Daryl’s heart pounded in his chest. For just a second, he was overcome with the sheer panic of being unable to tell if Carol was serious or if she was teasing him. If she was serious and he waved away her words as teasing, she would think that he’d simply misunderstood. There would be no harm done. Maybe, even, she’d feel confident to offer again—some other time and some other way. If she was teasing, though, and he took her seriously and reacted, then there was every chance that she’d run scared and never look back.

Daryl reminded himself that Carol was just coming out of something big—something that had probably made her scared half to death of men. Daryl would rather stab himself in the foot than scare her too.

“Stop,” Daryl teased, playfully shoving Carol so that she rocked away from him.

She laughed and Daryl’s stomach clenched as an odd wave of something like sadness washed over him.

She wasn’t scared of him. She laughed at him—in the best way possible. She still held tight to him, her fingers curled around his arm, and he could convince himself that it was because she wanted to and not because she had to. They were standing still. She could have dropped his arm a dozen times already without fear of falling.

But she was taking it as teasing. She wasn’t asking again. And though he was glad that he hadn’t chosen to scare her, Daryl somewhat mourned the lost opportunity to taste her lips.

Still—if there was any kind of luck in the world for an asshole like himself, there would be another opportunity. A better one. And he’d be a little surer that she wanted him to take it because she’d be a little surer that was what she wanted. 

And then he would take it.

But that wasn’t now, and it was getting late. 

“Come on,” Daryl said, the quality of his own voice surprising him. He faked a cough and cleared his throat before he dropped his cigarette and scuffed it out under his boot. “Gettin’ late an’ I don’t want Andrea thinkin’ I kept you out all night.”

Carol tightened her hold on Daryl’s arm and he shined the flashlight in front of them to light the way back to his bike. 

He only mis-stepped once, and that was only to give himself the chance to offer a little more support by dropping an arm around Carol’s back to help her over the uneven ground they had to cross on their way back to the road.

He noticed, too, that Carol didn’t seem to mind.


	21. Chapter 21

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl took his time getting back to Andrea’s house. He had an early morning ahead of him, but he still wasn’t quite ready to simply let the evening end. He couldn’t keep Carol on the back of the bike forever, though, and she would eventually realize that he was simply zigging and zagging down roads they didn’t need to take to prolong the trip. When they finally returned to Andrea’s house, Daryl stopped the bike and held it up for Carol to get off before he put the kickstand down. As she got off the bike, Carol squeezed Daryl’s shoulders in her hands. It was more affectionate than the typical squeeze that she used simply to balance herself as she got on and off the bike, and it left Daryl wondering if he’d blown a chance with her. He didn’t take too long to consider things, though, since it would only be a matter of minutes before Carol disappeared inside Andrea’s house for the night.

By the time Carol was unfastening the helmet she was wearing and was declaring something about having had a good time, Daryl was off the bike and standing next to her with his heart pounding in his chest. Carol stopped talking and froze when he took his place in front of her. Daryl couldn’t tell if she was afraid or simply surprised. 

Daryl couldn’t help but smile at her. She relaxed then, and she awkwardly offered him the helmet. He took it from her and rested it on the bike.

The light at Andrea’s made it easy to see the way she was looking at him with her big blue eyes. She almost unnerved him to the point that he simply wanted to get back on the bike and ride away, but he knew that he’d kick his own ass the whole way home if he did. He had to know, one way or another. His determination didn’t take away his nerves entirely, though.

“I—uh—told you that I was gonna make you ask from here on out. Well—at least for a while. For what’cha want, I mean. But it occurred to me that—well, I guess that—there can be more’n one way to ask for somethin’ and it don’t really work unless the person you’re askin’ is listenin’ good enough to hear what you’re sayin’. I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that—just let me try this and then you can tell me if I was just too damned far off base.”

Daryl blew out his breath and sucked another in. He had to stop talking or he’d talk himself into a hole. When he got nervous, he typically had two choices: he could either remain quiet, or he could start talking. The problem with choosing to try to talk his way out of something was that he typically ended up simply talking himself half to death without getting anywhere.

Merle called it the verbal shits, and it sometimes afflicted Daryl and a few others that he knew well.

To keep from letting it go too far, and to keep from losing his nerve or his chance, Daryl simply stopped talking and set himself on a course of action.

Daryl touched Carol’s face with his fingertips. He imagined, perhaps, that she leaned her face toward him. He trailed his fingertips toward her ear. He touched her soft hair. She closed her eyes for a tick longer than a typical blink and Daryl swallowed. He brushed his fingertips across her face again and down to the back of her neck. He rested his hand there and Carol’s eyes got a little bigger—perhaps she was concerned. Maybe there was something like fear in her eyes for a moment, but when Daryl gently squeezed the back of her neck, she seemed to relax again. He thought he saw her lips part slightly. He was certain that didn’t imagine the little step forward in his direction that Carol took. 

She brought her body closer to his and Daryl gently squeezed the back of her neck again. She was breathing hard. She was nervous. Daryl understood her feelings because he was dealing with his own nerves at the moment.

He leaned forward and tentatively brushed his lips against hers. Carol shifted her weight and lined their bodies up better, pushing her lips closer against his. At the warm feeling of her proximity, Daryl’s body reacted by sending a shiver through him. The shiver must have transferred to Carol because she broke their lips apart and laughed quietly.

“Cold?” She asked. She was close enough that her breath blew across him. He could hear the smile in her voice. Another shiver ran through his body.

He did his best to swallow, but it felt like one of the hardest things he’d ever done before.

He’d kissed women before, but there was something different about this kiss. There was something different about this woman.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Daryl responded. He swallowed when his own voice surprised him—deeper and throatier than he’d intended. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand so that he wasn’t holding Carol by the back of her neck any longer. If she felt like she gained some freedom, though, she didn’t respond in any way. She stayed near him. She didn’t step back. He hadn’t been holding her there. Her only change in position was to look up at him. Her eyes danced back and forth as she studied him. Daryl watched them jump in the beam from Andrea’s light.

“Fall’s coming,” Carol offered quietly. She smiled and tried to swallow it down, but she let it come back out again. She raised her eyebrow at Daryl. “There’s something in the air.”

Daryl swallowed. Maybe it was a little easier this time, though Carol’s very facial expressions kept sending what felt like shockwaves through his body.

“I think there is,” he agreed.

Carol pursed her lips at him. 

“When seasons change—it feels different,” Carol said. “You can just feel it.”

Daryl hummed.

“Can feel somethin’,” he responded. He cleared his throat again in an effort to reset his voice to normal. “Can you feel it? Same thing—same thing I’m feelin’?”

“I don’t know if it’s the same thing, exactly,” Carol said. “But I’m definitely feeling something.” 

She smiled and backed away from Daryl to put a little distance between them. 

“Was that OK?” Daryl asked. “I mean—what I done? Was it OK?”

Carol seemed to consider it. She nodded and Daryl thought that maybe she wasn’t quite sure yet whether or not she liked the kiss.

“Didn’t want it to be too much. Too fast. I know you’re—know you comin’ outta a real bad marriage. I know that—maybe the last thing you wanted was me to go kissin’ you like that. Andrea said that’cha might just wanna be a nun or something. Hell if any of us could blame you if that was how you felt about it but...”

Daryl stopped talking and laughed to himself. He scratched at the back of his neck.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he spat.

“I beg your pardon?” Carol asked. Daryl shook his head.

“No—I don’t—I—it’s the verbal shits. That’s what the hell Merle calls it.”

“The verbal shits?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“When I get—well, sometimes when I get too wound up. Ya know? Excited or—or nervous—or...I just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. As Merle says, if useless damn words were shovels I could get us to China in a half a damn day sometimes.”

Carol laughed. Normally someone laughing at his misfortune might bother Daryl. The sound of Carol’s laughter was welcome, though. 

“Do I make you nervous, Daryl?” Carol asked. “Or excited?”

Daryl’s heart nearly stopped in his chest and then it began thundering like it wanted to escape the skeletal prison of his ribcage where it had been confined for so many years. He couldn’t answer. Instead of spewing forth words he wanted to stop saying, as though his mouth were a broken faucet, Daryl found that he couldn’t force anything out. 

And maybe Carol understood. Because she gave him a genuine smile. A soft one. And she closed the distance between them. 

“Come here,” she said quietly, reaching her own hand around to the back of Daryl’s neck this time. He followed her command and came willingly. She returned her lips to his. The kiss she gave him was just as soft as the one he’d offered her. It was just as tentative. She gave it like she thought he might suddenly pull away and protest what she was doing. 

It was Carol that pulled away, though. Not Daryl. She dropped her hand from the back of his neck, backed up to put a step between them, and looked at him again with a soft smile on her lips.

“It was OK what you did,” Carol said. “It was—nice. Sweet and soft—and...”

“You don’t like soft?” Daryl asked.

Carol licked her lips. She shook her head gently.

“I didn’t say that,” she said. “Really—I’ve never had soft. It takes some time to get used to new things. There are a lot of new things for me to get used to these days.”

Daryl nodded his head.

“Suppose there are,” Daryl said. “But—soft, if you like soft? It shouldn’t be somethin’ you gotta get used to.”

“But it is,” Carol said. “It doesn’t mean that it’s a bad thing.”

She dramatically sucked in a breath and released it. She shifted on her feet, rocking just a little. She looked around like she expected someone else to be out there in the middle of the night and then she looked back at Daryl. 

“Daryl—you make me nervous, too,” Carol said.

Daryl’s stomach knotted up. Maybe he’d read her wrong. Maybe she wasn’t ready for the kiss. Maybe she’d never be ready for it. Even though she’d kissed him back, maybe she felt like he’d pushed her into it. He might have scared her enough that she’d simply run off because it was too much and it was all far too soon.

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I really am. I don’t just say that.”

Carol furrowed her brow at him and shook her head. 

“No—don’t say that,” she said. “Don’t apologize to me. I meant—I only mean to say that you’re nervous. And—I think I like that.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You like when a grown ass man tells you that’cha make his ass nervous?” Daryl coughed out. 

Carol smiled at him. She nodded her head.

“I do,” she said. 

“My fuckin’ brothers would run my ass up one side of Liberty an’ back down the other if they knowed I was out here tellin’ some woman that she made me nervous,” Daryl said.

“Oh—being nervous isn’t so bad,” Carol said. “Not—if it’s the good kind of nervous.”

“There’s a good kind?” Daryl asked.

“I think so,” Carol said. “Because—I certainly know there’s a bad kind. And this isn’t it.” 

Daryl considered her words. 

“I guess—you right,” Daryl said.

“I like it because it means I’m not the only one,” Carol said. “But—I won’t tell your brothers.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You’re a good woman,” Daryl said.

Carol swallowed.

“And you’re the first man to say that to me,” Carol mused.

Daryl’s stomach churned. 

“I’m sorry for that, too. It’s somethin’ you shoulda been knowin’ all along. Keep a man’s secrets like that...”

Carol hummed.

“Only the good ones,” Carol said. “I’m through keeping the—I’m through keeping bad secrets. Now, I only keep the good ones. Ones that don’t hurt either one of us.”

Daryl nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I hear ya. Understand. Them’s the kind I meant. The good ones. Like—like this one here. That we—uh—that we shared.” Carol smiled and nodded more enthusiastically than before. Daryl cleared his throat again. “I guess I—I should let you sleep...”

“Daryl—I didn’t say that I didn’t like the kiss,” Carol said. “I just—I want to make sure that you heard what I said. I didn’t say that I didn’t like the kiss. Just—that it would take time for me to get used to it. Not that I didn’t want to try again. And—not that I wouldn’t want to get used to it. Just—be patient? Go slow?”

Daryl felt a rush of relief surge through his body and he laughed to himself.

“Yeah,” he said. “Slow. I got’cha. I think I can handle that.”

“Yeah?” Carol asked. 

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed. He stepped forward. He quickly and gently pecked Carol’s lips. When he pulled away, she stepped forward to return the kiss with an equally quick peck. Before he could deepen the kiss she offered or respond in any other way, she pulled away from him and practically darted toward Andrea’s porch. Once a few feet were between them, she stopped and turned around. Daryl had already picked up his helmet and was busy readjusting the straps.

“Goodnight, Daryl,” Carol said. “Thanks for taking me to the lake.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Yeah—goodnight. Maybe the next time I take you up there it’ll be so you can actually see it.”

Carol smiled.

“I’d like that,” Carol said.

“Call it a date, then,” Daryl said. He crawled back on his bike and cranked it. He sat there and watched as Carol mounted the porch steps and slipped into the house. She wanted there to be a next time—a next trip to the lake, another kiss. 

Tonight, that was all that Daryl needed to know. 

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AN: Just as a teasing note: Buckle up. Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. The ride is about to begin. ;-) LOL (But don’t worry, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.)


	22. Chapter 22

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

 

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"Hey—you made me lunch,” Andrea said, musing over the sack lunch that Carol held up and announced to be hers before she placed it on the counter for Andrea to grab when she was ready to go out the door. “I might get used to that. I don't think anybody's ever made me lunch before.”

 

"Well, I just thought I would make it while I was going,” Carol said. “It wasn’t a problem at all. With Sophia going to school… "

 

She let her voice trail off. 

 

Carol’s attention was only drawn back when Andrea bumped her hand with a coffee mug. Carol thanked her as Andrea practically placed the mug in her hand. The liquid was warm and soothing, but it was far from scalding. Carol welcomed it and she drank down half the contents of the mug without stopping.

 

“Hey—she’ll have a good first day,” Andrea said as if she sensed that Carol needed the reassurance.

 

"I hope so,” Carol said.

 

Sophia was absorbed in cereal and cartoons on the couch. The clothes she was wearing were secondhand clothes, but they fit better and looked better than the ones that Carol had managed to grab from their house. Andrea had surprised Sophia with a backpack and lunchbox that she loved, and Carol had spent her tip money on buying her daughter the school supplies that she required for kindergarten—all brightly colored items that made learning seem like the most fun thing in the world.

Sophia wasn’t worried about school. She wasn’t nervous about her first day—even though it was her second first day of the year. She didn’t even seem concerned about meeting new people and being forced to make friends in strange new place.

 

For Sophia, everything was still exciting. It was only Carol that was anxious, and she was doing her best to hide it from Sophia so that the girl didn’t think that something was wrong. Carol didn’t want to spoil Sophia’s good mood with her own worries. 

 

“It's a new school and a new town. I just hope the kids are accepting of Sophia,” Carol said. “I know how small towns can be. Everybody knows everybody and then you’re the strange kid on the playground.”

 

"The kids will be accepting,” Andrea assured her. "Children are usually much more accepting than adults. We can stand to learn a lot from children, honestly. Besides—most of these kids are just getting started in school. They haven’t had enough time to get used to the idea of counting a new classmate as the odd man out. At their age, it’s exciting to be from somewhere else. You watch—Sophia will have a good time at school.” 

 

Carol smiled to herself. 

 

“You know what to say to make me feel better,” Carol said.

 

“Now I just have to figure out how to get you to actually believe me,” Andrea said. “Eat your breakfast, Carol. You’ve got a busy day today yourself.”

 

As if to show that she intended to lead by example and follow her own advice, Andrea quickly went about eating the two pieces of toast that Carol had made for her and put to the side. She slathered them with enough butter and jelly that they no longer even remotely resembled a healthy breakfast. Carol, for her part, smeared peanut butter onto her own pieces of toast and made quick work of them before she washed them down with coffee and gave another glance at the clock that had been commanding her since she’d rolled out of bed. 

 

There was just enough time for her to brush her teeth and get Sophia’s teeth brushed before Andrea was ready to go and the three of them could leave. Carol was surprised, though, when she stepped out of the front door and onto the porch. She hadn’t expected to find Daryl sitting outside, in his truck, with the engine off. She didn’t even know how long he might have been waiting there. He seemed to be studying something on his phone, but when Carol and Andrea emerged from the house, he looked up from his phone and waved at both of them. 

 

“Did you know about this?” Carol asked. 

 

Andrea smiled. It was perfectly clear to Carol that Andrew knew all about this. Andrea shrugged her shoulders unconvincingly. 

 

“He mentioned he might come to pick you up," Andrea said. "I didn't think you would mind, and I really have to get to the office early. I have a meeting. You don't mind, do you?”

 

Carol didn’t mind at all, though she did feel a little guilty at the thought of putting Daryl out. Making Andrea drive her was putting Andrea out too, but somehow it felt different. 

 

Sophia was the last to come out of the house and Andrea turned to lock her door as soon as Sophia had slipped out behind them declaring something about the thermos that she was so proud of—the one that Andrea had bought her to go with her lunchbox. As soon as Sophia saw Daryl, it was clear that she didn’t mind the idea of being driven to school by him. She immediately bounded off the steps and ran toward Daryl’s truck, calling out his name over and over. 

 

Daryl got out of his truck and met Sophia with open arms. He lifted her up quickly, somewhat bouncing her in the air, and she screamed out at him in delight.

 

“Sophia,” Carol said quickly, “there are still some people in town who are trying to sleep.”

 

“They oughta be awake,” Daryl said. “It’s a workday.”

 

Carrying Sophia perched on his hip, Daryl walked back to his truck and opened up the door. He put Sophia’s feet down inside the truck and supported her while she got her balance. She didn’t need directions on how to get herself into the seat where she’d ridden before. Daryl helped her with her seatbelt and then he turned around to look at Carol.

 

“Is this alright?” He asked. He cleared his throat. “I guess—maybe I shoulda asked that ‘fore I got her buckled in, but Andrea said that...well, she said it would prob’ly be alright ‘cause she’s got a meetin’ that she’s gotta get to and I just figured—ya know. You was goin’ the same place as I was an’ all.”

 

Carol smiled to herself. It was Sophia’s first day at school and it was Carol’s first day doing some work that needed to be done at the shop for the extra money that she needed to try to put her life in order. Daryl was right. They were, at least eventually, going to the same place. Besides, even if she’d felt annoyed before, or even nervous, Daryl had a strange way of dissolving all that. Any of the gnawing feelings that had been residing in her gut only moments before seemed to dissolve as she stood there looking at him looking back at her with his brow furrowed. She nodded her head. 

 

“It’s alright,” Carol assured him quietly. 

 

Relief overtook Daryl’s features before his smile spread across his lips. He took Sophia’s things from Carol and put them in the truck. Then he gestured toward the open door to usher Carol inside the truck. When she made the move to get in, he offered her his arm for support. She didn’t need it, but she took it anyway. As soon as she was in the truck, he closed the door and circled around to get in on his own side. 

 

“Thanks for the ride," Carol said as soon as Daryl closed his door. Andrea was already in her car. She backed up and waved at the three of them as she pulled out of her own yard. Daryl cranked his truck and put it into reverse.

 

“It ain’t no problem,” Daryl said. “You’re welcome and...besides...I like the company.”

 

Carol smiled to herself and, perhaps, in spite of herself.

 

“You say that,” Carol said, “but I can't keep putting everyone out like this. I've got to get my car fixed.”

 

“Who’s getting’ put out?” Daryl asked. That was all he said to dismiss Carol’s words. He focused on the road, made sure that there was nothing coming, and pulled out to start driving toward Sophia’s new school. Daryl glanced in the rearview mirror. “Hey—Soph...you excited an’ all? About’cha school?”

 

“Yes,” Sophia answered matter-of-factly from her seat. “I got a lunchbox that has—did you see it? It has a purple cat on it. I was just gonna have the lunchbox, but Andrea got me a thermos that has a cat on it too. Did you see it?”

 

Sophia had possession of her thermos, so she waved it around at Daryl. He laughed quietly to himself.

 

“Yeah—that’s a right nice, thermos,” Daryl said. “I’m jealous. I don’t got me a nice thermos like that one.”

 

“I could let you borrow it someday,” Sophia offered sincerely.

 

Daryl laughed to himself and Carol looked out the window to keep her daughter from seeing her humor. Sophia might mistake Daryl’s laughter for the pure joy that such a prospect could bring him, but if she saw Carol laughing then she’d probably figure out that they were laughing at her offer.

 

“Yeah—I’d like that,” Daryl said. “But for now I don’t got shit—mean I don’t got nothin’ to put in it. So it’s better that you take it with you. Did you get you one of them packs? Bags?” 

 

Carol knew that Daryl knew about Sophia’s big purple backpack because he’d put it in the truck. She also knew, though, that he was playing dumb to try to keep Sophia talking. He liked paying her attention and he liked when she talked to him. Sophia was more than happy to keep him occupied, too. She talked to him all the way to the school. She talked to him the whole time they were waiting in line to drop her off, and she didn’t stop talking until Carol spilled out of the truck and opened the door to free Sophia from her seat. 

 

She’d already brought Sophia to meet her teacher, among other people that worked at the school, and she’d already been informed of the way in which the school handled drop-off and pick-up for the young children who came in cars instead of on the bus. As soon as she had Sophia’s feet on the ground, the teacher that was assigned to Sophia made her way over. She stood to the side while Sophia gathered up her things, gave Carol a kiss and a hug, and waved to Daryl with her over-full hands and yelled at him to “be good” in the same manner in which he had barked the command at her while Carol was getting her out of the truck.

 

“Are you sure I don’t need to come in with her?” Carol asked the young woman that would be Sophia’s teacher—Ms. Sasha Williams. 

 

The woman flashed Carol a genuine smile and shook her head. 

 

“We’ve found that the transition is always easier if we go ahead and get it over with out here,” Sasha said. “She’ll be headed right over there to the playground and then we’ll go into class to get started on a really cool craft project that we’re working on right now.”

 

The teacher’s enthusiasm was as much for Sophia’s benefit as it was for Carol’s. Sophia didn’t need any convincing, though. She was ready to go. When Carol demanded one more kiss, Sophia half-heartedly obliged her and then she practically dragged her teacher toward the fenced-in area where she would play with the other kids while Ms. Williams gathered the rest of her wards out of their parents’ cars. 

 

The line was starting to back up and Carol knew that the other parents would be annoyed. It wasn’t their child’s first day of school in a new and strange place. They wouldn’t understand the delay.

 

Carol got back in the truck and closed the door. Daryl creeped through the line until she got her seatbelt fastened.

 

“You—uh—you OK?” Daryl asked.

 

“I’m fine,” Carol said.

 

“You wanna cry or—or whatever it is that you do? I mean...I’m OK with it,” Daryl offered.

 

Carol laughed to herself. 

 

“That’s actually—kind of sweet,” Carol said. “But I’m not going to cry.” She sighed. “I just worry...”

 

“She’s your kid,” Daryl said. “You’re supposed to worry. If you didn’t worry about her, you wouldn’t be a decent Ma. But she’s gonna be alright. Kid’s pretty damn excited. She’s gonna have a damn good time. Good thing, too. She’ll go far with that attitude. Me? I hated school.”

 

“I liked school,” Carol offered half-heartedly. “You’re going to be late for work.”

 

“I know the boss,” Daryl said with a laugh. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He rolled down the truck window and smoked it while he drove them through some of the winding roads of the small town. He knew the place well. Carol would have had to seek a much more direct route than the one that he was taking to get to the shop.

 

“Andrea’s got a meeting about me, I think,” Carol said. Her stomach churned just to hear herself speaking about her personal life out loud. “I’ve got a hearing coming up.”

 

“Restraining order?” Daryl asked.

 

Carol hummed.

 

“Good,” Daryl said. “That—one of the things you worried about?” 

 

Carol sighed and gnawed at her fingernail. She hadn’t chewed her fingernails since she was a kid, but she was seeking some comfort at the moment. Daryl seemed to notice because he offered her the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 

 

“Just in case you wanted one,” he said. Carol accepted it with a quiet thanks. She rolled down her own window and lit the cigarette. Blowing the smoke out, she found that she did feel a little better. “I guess—I’m a little concerned because I don’t want to keep Sophia out of school any longer but...without the restraining order...” Carol couldn’t bring herself to finish it. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know where we are. He’s probably not even looking for us. He’s probably glad to be rid of us.”

 

“Don’t you worry about him,” Daryl said. “He ain’t gonna find you. Ain’t gonna find Sophia.”

 

Carol smiled to herself.

 

“I wish I could be as confident as you,” Carol said. “But—I appreciate the reassurance.”

 

“I’m not just blowin’ smoke up your ass to make you feel better,” Daryl said. “I mean it. You shouldn’t worry. He won’t be comin’ after you—an’ if he does...”

 

Daryl never did finish his statement. But, in her gut, Carol didn’t really need him to finish it either. She was relieved when he changed the subject by switching the radio on and quickly engaging her in a string of questions about the kinds of music she liked.


	23. Chapter 23

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“Want’cha to ride over to the lil’ kids’ school,” Daryl said. “Find you a comfortable damn spot ‘cause you gonna be there all day. Stay outta the way. Don’t cause no big fuss or nothin’, but look for people that look like they ain’t really s’posed to be there. Like they don’t know where the hell they are. Men especially.”

“So—basically you want me to look for people like me,” Glenn said. 

Daryl laughed to himself.

The Korean prospect had spunk. He was a little skittish, but he wanted to be part of the Judges and he was getting over most of his fears one day at a time.

“Somethin’ like that,” Daryl said. 

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and took a drag on his cigarette. He’d rounded up the prospect on his own and dragged him out to the far side of the shop to pretend that he was showing him something on a car. It was a good cover. He had a fender tucked away and he’d could always pretend that he’d sent Glenn to fetch the part if he had to come up with a quick lie to cover his tracks.

Daryl flipped through the pictures on his phone and found some that he’d taken at the park. Carol didn’t have a phone yet, but they were getting her one. When she got one, he fully intended to pass the photos to her. She knew his plans.

It worked out well, though, because it meant he had the photo that he needed. 

Sophia was smiling broadly at the camera. It was an almost perfect picture of the freckle-faced kid at the park. 

Daryl showed the photo to Glenn. 

“I’ma send this to you so you got it too,” Daryl said. “Keep your eyes peeled for this kid right here. Anybody that don’t work at that school so much as tries to talk to her ass through a fence some damn where, I wanna know about it. You see anybody gettin’ her ass outta that school that you can’t put’cha damn hand on an’ call by name—knowin’ they affiliated with the Judges? I wanna know it about an’ I want’cha to cause a damn disturbance that’ll have every cop in this county swarmin’ that school ‘fore that fucker so much as gets ten feet away from you. You got me?”

“What if I get arrested?” Glenn asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Then you bust a cherry,” Daryl said. “An’ we’ll bail you out. What the fuck you think them dues you pay is for if it ain’t for gettin’ your ass outta jail an’ clear when need be?”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with this...” Glenn said.

Daryl took a drag on his cigarette and watched Glenn for a moment. He was practically a kid. He was new to the Judges. His story was a hell of a lot different than the stories of most of the members. 

But he wanted to be a brother—and his story didn’t matter to the Judges.

The past didn’t matter. The present was all that any of them really had.

“I get it,” Daryl said. “I understand. You ain’t comfortable with it. Big damn job an’ all—watchin’ to make sure that somebody who don’t got no business bein’ around a kid don’t get around a kid. Lotta—stress.”

Glenn nodded his head. He looked a little relieved. He was already under the impression that Daryl was about to let him off the hook. He was already feeling better that this job would go to someone else. 

He was wrong.

“It’s a big damn job,” Daryl said. “Kind that belongs to a brother. You do wanna be a brother, don’t’cha Glenn? Wear a full patch? Earn your top rocker?” 

Glenn swallowed.

“You know I do,” he said.

“Got a vote comin’ up in two weeks,” Daryl said. “We weren’t votin’ on no prospects this time. Figured none of you assholes done shit to prove yourself yet. Ain’t earned the right to call yourself no Judge. But—I got the Prez’s ear. Ya know? Got a lotta damn pull in this club. You know that, don’t’cha, Glenn? That I got a lotta damn pull in this club.”

Glenn swallowed and nodded again.

“You’re the Vice President,” Glenn said.

Daryl smiled at him. He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head.

“Lotta—lotta—damn pull,” Daryl said. “Got a vote comin’ up in two weeks. I could bring a name to the table. But—if you want me to ask Steve...I’m sure he ain’t doin’ shit else that he’d think is more important.” 

“No,” Glenn said quickly. “No...no...I want to do it. I can do it.”

“You can do it?” Daryl asked.

“I can do it,” Glenn said.

“This is real—real—important to me,” Daryl said. “It’s personally important to me, you understand? I don’t want you to fuck it up. Can I count on you not to fuck it up?” 

Glenn nodded his head. Daryl sent the picture through to Glenn and lit another cigarette. 

“You got mail or whatever the hell you wanna call it,” Daryl said. 

“Who’s looking for her?” Glenn asked, opening the picture and studying Sophia’s face. “Isn’t that...?”

“It is,” Daryl said. “And you ain’t gonna say shit about it to her, neither.”

“She doesn’t know I’m going to the school?” Glenn asked.

“Nobody does,” Daryl said. “An’ you an’ me—we gonna keep it that way. If you wantin’ your name to come up at that table in two weeks, then this shit don’t come up to nobody, No-way, no-how. You hear me?” 

“Why’s it a secret?” Glenn asked.

“’Cause I don’t wanna get her stirred up if there ain’t no call for it,” Daryl said. “That’s why. There might not be no problem at all, but if we start runnin’ around here crowin’ that there is? She’s gonna get all freaked the fuck out for no good reason.”

“Who is it I’m looking for?” Glenn asked.

“Her old man,” Daryl said. “Maybe somebody else, but I’m bettin’ on him.”

“What’s he look like?” Glenn asked.

“Beats the ever-livin’ fuck outta me,” Daryl said. “That’s why you lookin’ for anything that don’t sit right with you. Today was Sophia’s first day of school. Carol’s restrainin’ order ain’t come through ‘cause they’re makin’ her go through a hearin’ that ain’t come up yet. Kid can’t stay outta school forever an’ now her name an’ where the hell she is...well...it’s floatin’ around out there on them internet waves an’ shit.”

“You think he’s looking for her,” Glenn said. Daryl wasn’t sure if he was asking a question or making a statement.

“I think it’s a possibility,” Daryl said. “An’ while the assholes in blue are sittin’ on their asses an’ hopin’ shit don’t happen...”

“We’re making sure it doesn’t,” Glenn offered.

Daryl laughed to himself at Glenn’s quickness to finish what he was going to say. Maybe the kid was learning a few things after all. 

“Just keepin’ the peace,” Daryl said. “You got this? You can handle it?” 

“I can handle it,” Glenn assured him. 

“An’ you ain’t gonna say shit to nobody if you ever—an’ I mean ever—wanna get’cha name on that table,” Daryl said. “You got me? I’ll tell everybody. Even Carol. But I want it to come from me. Not from you an’ the other assholes around here flappin’ your damn jaws like a buncha old biddies.” 

“I hear you,” Glenn assured him.

“You see somethin’ that’cha even think might be off, you let me know immediately,” Daryl said. “I got my phone on.” 

Glenn nodded.

“Good,” Daryl said. “Hey—an’ thanks.”

Glenn smiled.

“Not a problem,” he offered, copying Daryl’s standard way of telling someone that he didn’t mind doing what they’d asked him to do. It sounded odd coming out of Glenn’s mouth because he’d tried to use Daryl’s inflection—something that just didn’t fit with the kid. Daryl laughed to himself.

“Yeah,” he said. “Alright. Get the fuck outta here. I don’t know what’cha waitin’ on now.”

To put an end to their conversation, Daryl walked away, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it even as he walked.

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“Brother!” Merle called, his voice echoing around the shop. It was especially loud at this time of the evening when there was nothing running, the radio had been turned off, and there were no other voices. “Whatever the hell you’re doin’, leave it an’ let’s get down to the Chambers. Shit’ll still be there tomorrow.”

“You go on,” Daryl called back.

Not very many minutes passed before Merle simply opened the door to the office. He never had been a very good listener.

“What the fuck, Merle!” Daryl spat. “I coulda been in there takin’ a shit with the door open for all you damn know.”

Merle laughed to himself. There was a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and he caught it with his fingers and puffed on it. 

“What the hell would’ja be takin’ a shit with this door closed an’ that one open for? I’m serious, lil’ brother, you don’t make a whole lotta sense.” Merle looked around him at the desk. He clucked his tongue. “The fuck did’ja do to my office, Derlina? I paid the House Mouse to clean this up. I know you ain’t gonna tell me she left the shit like this.”

“I’ll put it back together when I’m done, Merle,” Daryl said.

“You damn sure will,” Merle mused. “What the hell you doin’ anyway?” 

Daryl sighed. His brother wasn’t going to leave him alone, and he might actually be able to help him, so Daryl figured he might as well be at least somewhat honest with him.

“Where’s the intake information you got on Carol?” Daryl asked.

“Intake information?” Merle asked.

“Shit you asked when you hired her, Merle,” Daryl said.

“I asked if she needed a job,” Merle said. “She did. Asked if she knew the alphabet ‘cause we had a real complicated fuckin’ filin’ system here—she did. Asked if she could answer the damn phone. She could. The fuck I need to write that down for, Daryl?” 

“You know what the hell I’m talkin’ about,” Daryl said. “Name. Address. Phone number. Social Security number. All that shit you had to ask her.”

“Payin’ in cash,” Merle said. “I don’t got to know her fuckin’ name to do that. Address—Andrea’s house. Phone—she ain’t got one yet, but she can be reached by sendin’ out a damn APB through the club.”

Daryl frowned at his brother and turned around to lean against the desk that he’d made a mess of. He crossed his arms over his chest and Merle leaned close to him to snub his cigarette out in the ashtray that he found underneath some loose papers on the desk.

“Why you lookin’ like I choked your puppy, Daryl?” Merle asked. “What the hell’s it mean to ya, no way?” 

“I don’t know her last name, Merle,” Daryl said. “Like she’s fuckin’ Cher or some shit.”

Merle sucked his teeth. 

“Bono,” he said after a moment. 

“Her last name is Bono?” Daryl asked. “Carol Bono?” 

Merle laughed to himself.

“Cher,” he said. “Bono’s her last name. Fuckin’—she married Gregg Allman. Guess it’s Allman.”

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, Merle,” Daryl mused.

Merle shook another cigarette out of his pack and offered it in Daryl’s direction. Daryl took it and lit it while Merle lit another for himself. 

“What the hell’s it matter to ya?” Merle asked. “Her name don’t make no difference, does it?” 

“I need it,” Daryl said. “Listen—Merle—I can’t explain it to you, OK? I just—I need to know what her fuckin’ name is.”

Merle nodded his head. He reached around and pulled open one of the drawers that Daryl hadn’t gotten to yet in a file cabinet. He burrowed through a pile of paper, pulled out a sheet, and studied it a moment before he offered it to Daryl.

Daryl swallowed and stared at it. 

It was Carol’s information. 

Carol M. Peletier.

“Thanks,” Daryl said, staring at the piece of paper and reading the information.

Merle hummed at him.

“She give you a taste yet?” Merle asked.

“The hell you talkin’ about?” Daryl asked.

“Of that sweet—sweet—pussy, boy,” Merle said. 

Daryl scoffed at his brother’s expression as much as he scoffed at his words.

“Fuck you, Merle,” Daryl said. “You’re a nasty ass.”

Merle laughed.

“Nothin’ nasty about it, brother,” Merle said. “Or don’t you know yet? She ain’t give you no taste...”

“The fuck would it matter to you either way, Merle?” Daryl asked.

“Don’t get an attitude with me, brother. I’m just worried about you. You this damned whipped an’ she ain’t even throwed a lil’ taste in your direction? I’m half fuckin’ terrified of what the hell’s gonna happen when she let’s you get close enough to wallow your whole damn face in it.”

Merle held his tongue out and wagged it at Daryl. He reached and took the paper out of Daryl’s hand before he returned it to its rightful place in the file cabinet. 

“You’re an asshole, Merle,” Daryl said. “A disgusting fuckin’ asshole.”

Merle just laughed. He considered those words to almost be praise.

“I’m headin’ to the Chambers, lil’ brother. Clean this shit up ‘fore you head on over,” Merle called, walking away without a word more and leaving Daryl among the heaps of papers that he’d dragged out of all the desk drawers.


	24. Chapter 24

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“Are you ready to go?” Carol asked as she emerged from the back room where she’d just finished washing the shot glasses. She looked around the bar. It was as tidy as it ever was when she called it a night. “Teeter is asleep back there. Merle said he would be fine for the night. He’ll come by and check on him in the morning.”

 

It felt strange closing up with someone that wasn't Daryl. Crockett was nice enough, and he’d offered to take Carol home, but he simply wasn't Daryl. In fact, Crockett’s offer to take her home made Carol realize just how accustomed she was becoming to Daryl’s presence. She had waited for Daryl to show up at the bar during the evening, but he’d never come. She had no way of getting in touch with him, and she really hadn’t found the right moment to ask his whereabouts without sounding like she was crazy. She had, after all, no real reason to expect to know where Daryl was or what he was doing. He was free to spend his time however he liked. 

 

Now Carol was alone with Crockett.

 

Crockett patted the bar stool next him. “Have a seat,” he said.

 

“I need to get home,” Carol said. “I've got a kid, remember?”

 

“The president and his old lady are with your kid,” Crockett responded. “She’s in about the best hands she could be in. I think she'll be OK for a few minutes. Just a shot. A little something to help you unwind after a long ass day.”

 

Carol sighed and Crockett smiled at her. He waved her over by patting the seat next to him again.

 

“Come on,” he urged. “Sit and have a drink. Let me wait on you for a change.” Seeing that he wasn’t going to take her home until she gave in and had the shot with him, Carol took her seat on the barstool to which he’d directed her. Crockett got up from the stool that he was holding down. He walked around the bar and a moment later he helped himself to two shot glasses and a bottle. He placed them on the bar in front of Carol and filled both glasses before he pushed one in Carol's direction and put the bottle back under the bar.

 

Carol quickly swallowed down the shot that had been placed in front of her. She resisted the urge to cringe as she tasted the alcohol burning the back of her throat. She could never get used to the taste of straight liquor, but it seem to be one of the favorite drinks around here, and everyone seemed to think that she would enjoy it. Anytime anyone bought her a drink, it seemed like they were buying her a shot of something she'd rather not taste.

 

Crockett laughed. He was probably amused by her lack of enthusiasm for the alcohol. He drank his own shot before he took both shot glasses. He disappeared into the back and reappeared a few moments later.

 

“Daryl never showed up tonight,” Carol said. She hoped that just mentioning it would be enough to get Crockett to talk about it and tell her what he knew. From what she'd seen of Crockett, it didn't take much to get him talking. He hummed at her and stopped walking at the end of the bar. He lit a cigarette and puffed on it thoughtfully. 

 

“Guess he didn't,” Crockett said. “You’re right.”

 

“I hope nothing happened,” Carol pressed.

 

Crockett scratched his nose absentmindedly with the ring finger of the hand that held the cigarette. He took another drag off his cigarette. 

 

“No,” he said. “No—I mean not that I know of. And Merle would’ve said something. He wasn’t sure he was gonna make it, though. Guess he didn’t after all. Something with Alice,” Crockett said. Now that Carol had him talking, he would keep going until he’d exhausted his knowledge because, from what she’d seen, that was pretty much how Crockett worked. “Had to go somewhere with her. Do something with her. I don't know. I heard Merle say something about it, but he weren’t really talking to me and I weren't really listening.”

 

Carol was sure that Crockett had told her everything he knew. It was pretty simple—Daryl had something to do with another member of the club. A lot of “club business,” as Merle called it, seemed to be confidential. Carol had already learned that most of the “club business” was shared on a need-to-know basis. 

And Carol, really, was just a house mouse. There wasn’t very much that she needed to know.

“Are you ready to go?” Carol asked again.

 

Crockett pulled one of the ashtrays down to the end of the bar so that he could flick the ashes off the end of his cigarette. 

 

“Let me finish this,” he said. Carol nodded her acceptance of his plan. “We got us a damn fine house mouse around here,” he mused. “She’s got this whole damn place just shining. Floors are clean enough to eat off of. And...I heard that we actually have an inventory instead of somebody just calling up and guessing what the hell we need around here. Heard this place is even turning a profit during dinner hours. Going to have this place in tiptop shape before long. Besides that, she’s got a real good personality. Gets along with everybody.”

 

Carol couldn’t help but smile.

 

Crockett was an asshole, but he was something of a charming asshole. Carol could see how he was probably the kind of guy that got some girls in trouble. He seem like the kind that could be really smooth, but also at least somewhat insincere.

Crockett was the kind of guy that was a real sweet-talker, but there was no need in feeling like his sweetness was only meant for you and you and alone. Carol knew the type. 

Still, it was flattering and she was enjoying the kind words. 

 

“It's easy to get along with everybody when everybody is so nice to you,” Carol said.

 

“I heard she was real nice too,” Crockett offered. “Not too hard on the eyes neither.”

 

Crushing his cigarette out in the ashtray. He straightened himself up from where he had been leaning on the end of the bar. He walked over to Carol and closed the distance between them so completely that he practically left no room at all between himself and Carol’s knees as she sat on the bar stool. 

Carol was suddenly very aware of the back of the bar digging into her spine. She swallowed. The position itself was not something that she enjoyed. She felt a little trapped. She felt a little claustrophobic. She didn’t want to say anything, though, until she was sure of Crockett’s intentions. She knew very little about the Judges and how they operated, but she knew that they had a strict code of conduct that they were expected to follow. There were allowances here and there for things that were consensual—and most of those allowances she knew because Andrea had told her stories about how she and Merle had required a few amendments to club policy, but it was clear that anybody acting outside of the code of conduct would be punished in some way. From what Carol could tell, it was very likely they would be removed from the club and banished from the presence of their brothers. Given Carol’s understanding it would be difficult to find anything that would be more devastating to one of the Judges. She fully intended to give Crockett the benefit of the doubt until he gave her a reason not to.

 

She smiled at him instead of being defensive.

 

“It's getting late,” Carol offered.

 

“The night’s still young,” Crockett said. “Anybody ever told you that you got beautiful eyes?”

 

“They're tired and bloodshot right now,” Carol said. “Because it's too late, and because I worked this morning and this evening and tonight. They’re tired and stinging because it’s time go home. Are you all right to drive, Crockett?” 

 

Crockett laughed to himself. He backed up and gave Carol freedom from the position in which she’d felt trapped. He shook his head.

 

“You oughta know how much I've had to drink,” he said. “You served it. That shot you just saw me drink. Two beers since I got here. Two beers since I got off work, actually. I wouldn't be drunk if I sat down and drank that over again right now.”

 

“Good,” Carol said. “So maybe we should get out of here.”

 

“Do you know what?” Crockett mused.

 

“No, but I'm pretty sure you’re gonna tell me,” Carol responded.

 

“You're a bit of a tease,” Crockett said. “You lead people on. You kinda—rub on people. Get real close to them. Make ‘em think you’re interested. You act like you like their attention. But then, when they show you a little more attention—you just close off. Now—I’m not a dangerous person. I get it. I can tell when you don’t want no more attention from me. But—you just oughta know that not everybody will back the fuck off. Most brothers will, but not everybody will. You oughta know it so you can be careful with that shit. You don’t want to go teasing the wrong motherfucker.” 

 

Carol felt like she’d been punched in the chest. It felt like an iron fist had slammed her right in her sternum. If she hadn't been sitting on the stool, she might've staggered backwards under the weight of the imaginary blow. 

“I never led anybody on,” Carol insisted. “I never gave anybody a reason to think that I was being more than friendly.” 

 

“You're all smiles,” Crockett said. “All flirting and rubbing up on people. But you don't mean a damn bit of it. That’s teasing. That’s leading on.”

 

“That’s being a house mouse,” Carol said. “It comes with the job description. And that’s wanting tips at the end of the night so I can afford to get some kind of life for me and my daughter. Just because I brush against you doesn’t mean that I want to stay that close to you. And just because I give someone a smile? It doesn’t mean that I’m required to give them anything else. It’s not even a promise of more than just that smile.” Carol swallowed. Her throat felt dry. “I’m sorry if you thought it was something more or if nobody’s ever told you that. Besides—I’ve seen how Andrea...”

 

“Big damn difference between the president’s old lady and somebody that’s got no real ties to this club,” Crockett said.

 

Carol swallowed again, forcing what saliva she could work up down her dry throat. What was she supposed to do? She was there alone, and even if she wanted to call someone, she'd have to excuse herself from Crockett's presence. She nodded her head. 

Carol knew that a case of hurt feelings could easily get out control. A bruised ego could be a dangerous thing—just not always for the person who had suffered the imaginary injury. 

 

“You're right,” she said. She knew that men liked to be appeased. They liked to be told that they were right. They liked to hear that they were superior. Such things were especially appealing to a certain kind of man. Maybe Crockett was a certain kind of man. Maybe Crockett was proof that people could act in contrast to their natures. He might be inclined to act one way but, given the code of conduct under which he was expected to live his life, he controlled himself enough to keep from doing anything that the club would forbid. “I'm sorry,” Carol said. “I never meant to lead you on. It's just… I'm new here. I'm new to the club. I'm new to this job. I'm new to this town. And I'm new to not being married to my husband. So I'm still trying to figure out how things work, and if that means I led you on, then it was an accident. I never meant to do it. And I apologize for that. I apologize for any confusion that I caused.”

 

Crockett laughed to himself. His entire demeanor changed again and he returned to being the slightly cocky, but charming asshole that Carol had come to expect him to be.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah...hey...don't worry about it. It's nothing but a thing. No harm, no foul, right?” He sounded sincere. He looked sincere. Any of the earlier tension that had registered on his features was instantly gone. “You don't got no hard feelings about it, do you?”

 

Carol’s heart was pounding in her chest because she hadn’t known what to expect. Things could have gone badly, but they had actually gone quite well. It had simply been a misunderstanding, and perhaps it had been a misunderstanding on both their parts. She searched herself and realized that there were, indeed, no hard feelings. 

 

She offered Crockett a genuine smile and shook her head.

 

“No hard feelings,” she said. “You?”

 

“No hard feelings,” Crockett a shored her. “I’d like a clean slate, if you got it in you.”

Carol nodded. 

“I think I’ve still got a few clean slates in me,” she said. 

Crockett smiled. 

“Good,” he said. “But—I did mean what I said about...you just oughta be careful. You don’t never know.”

Carol nodded again.

“Duly noted,” she said. 

“Maybe one day you’ll let me make it up to you,” Crockett said. “Maybe one day you’ll be looking for a little attention. You might even want me to take you out to eat or something.”

“I tell you what,” Carol said, “if I ever do want you to pay me some attention and take me out to eat, then I’ll tell you directly, OK? That way you don’t have to read into anything. You don’t have to worry if I’m being sincere or sending you some kind of signal. A friendly gesture is just a friendly gesture. If I want something more from you, I promise that you’ll be the first to know and you won’t have to wonder. Not even for a minute. Deal?” 

Crockett laughed to himself.

“Deal,” he said. He offered her his hand. “Shake on it?” Carol smiled and shook his hand. He raised his eyebrows at her and smirked at her. “I got a challenge now, you know—getting you to decide you want me to take you to dinner. I love a good challenge.”

Carol hummed at him.

“Just friends,” she reiterated.

He held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Just friends,” he echoed. “But it doesn’t mean that a man can’t dream. You ready to go?” 

Carol breathed out a sigh of relief at finally being offered the ride home that she’d been hoping to get for some time. She nodded.

“Now that’s something I thought you’d never ask,” Carol said.

Crockett laughed and waved toward the door. Carol walked out in front of him and waited for him to lock the door behind him. At his bike, Crockett offered her his helmet. She crawled onto the back of his bike. She held onto him to keep her balance, but she did her best to keep some distance between them. She didn't want to get too close. She didn't want her movements to be taken wrong.

She wasn’t trying, after all, to lead Crockett on and she certainly didn’t intend to ask him to take her to dinner.


	25. Chapter 25

AN: Here we are, another chapter.

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“It's definitely this road,” Alice said, sliding into the truck on the passenger’s side and plopping a large bag of boiled peanuts on the seat between Daryl and herself. “We only go a few more miles down. Then we'll it. But he said it wouldn't be marked very well. The sign’s hard to see, but it’s there. Bent Willow Lane. Sounds pretty damn picturesque doesn't it?” Alice mused. She rolled down her window and, plucking one of the peanuts out of the large bag and, after opening the shell with her teeth, she flicked the soggy peanut shell out the window and into the small parking lot. 

 

“The fuck is with the peanuts, Al?” Daryl asked. 

 

Alice laugh and shoved her hand into the bag of peanuts again. She ate another in the same fashion as she’d eaten the first. 

“Asshole said he wouldn't give me directions of I didn’t buy something,” Alice said. “Jokes on him. He makes these in the store so I knew they had to be pretty good. I was going to buy some anyway. I pretended like he really got me over a barrel, though. He’s like two hundred years old. They’re good peanuts, though, if you want some.”

Daryl refused Alice’s offer of the peanuts with a grumbled thanks. He’d probably eat half the damn bag on the way back to Liberty, but he didn’t want to eat them right now. Besides, he might want to give her hell about buying a bag that big of peanuts before he admitted to her that it was a good purchase. 

 

Daryl could easily understand how it was that, in a place like this, the person selling the peanuts wasn't going to give away any directions if he wasn't getting anything in return. They were pretty far away from anything that could be described as the city. They were surrounded by a small town, but this area was one of those outcroppings that had probably once been pastures or farmland. A lot of agricultural land—and especially small family farms---had gone belly up and that land had been turned into suburbs and neighborhoods that tried to pretend they belonged to their surrounding towns but were still pretty much isolated until they grew enough to run into something a little less rural. 

It seemed about right that the asshole they’d come there to see had chosen a place like this to live. It would put him smack dab in the middle of some kind of subdivision where he could look like he was just part of the budding community, but it also kind of put him out in the middle of nowhere. The area probably gave him some privacy. Privacy that he used, no doubt, to torture his wife. Daryl continued along the road that he had predicted was the right one, even though he never had been that great at reading a map, now that it had been confirmed to be correct by their new peanut-producing friend. 

 

Just as they’d been warned, the roads weren't well-marked because most of the street signs had gotten lost in a tangle of kudzu and overgrown trees. Daryl could tell it was one of those areas where the county came through, once in a while, just to cut the trees right along the edge of the road because they were a liability for the power company. They didn't care what the roadsides looked like otherwise. Daryl saw the sign almost at the very moment that he would have missed the road, but he was able to snatch the wheel and get the truck to turn. He just barely made it on the road and Alice hooted before she laughed at the abrupt turn that they made—a turn that sent her somewhat barreling into both Daryl and her peanuts. They might have come on their bikes, but their bikes drew more attention. What they needed was something that wouldn’t draw any attention. They needed something that would never get them recognized. 

 

Axel had just the thing. This truck didn’t belong to anybody anymore, but they kept it running for situations just like this one. If any police officer wanted to run a scan on the tag they were driving on, they’d find out that the tag was long expired and the truck had once been registered under the name of a man called William Walsh who had died about ten years ago in a house fire—long after he’d rid himself of the bucket of bolts that Daryl was now driving. The sticker on the truck was a fake. Of course, more than one brother had counterfeited things in their life, so it hadn’t been hard to come by. Cash or a registration sticker—it was all the same to someone in the business of counterfeiting. Daryl was driving carefully enough that no cop would have any reason to run a scan on their tag, though, and for the time being they were too far out of the city limits to really get the attention of too many officers. There would be no reason for anyone to know that this particular truck hadn’t carried insurance since probably Daryl and Axel were both in diapers.

 

Alice and Daryl weren't trying to draw too much attention to themselves. They didn’t want to be memorable and they didn’t want to be traceable. It just so happened that the Judges were typically pretty good at blending in when they had the desire to do just that. They’d shed their cuts before they’d even gone in to piss somewhere tonight. This wouldn’t blow back on any of them. Experience had taught them how to avoid things like blowback. 

The Judges were well-known and easily recognizable, but only when they wanted to be. To anyone who saw them tonight, Daryl and Alice just looked like a couple of people out riding around in an old clunker that was hardly memorable. 

 

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Daryl said. “Lookin’ for 724 on the house. That was 724.”

 

Daryl let the truck crawl along the street. For what had seemed like country roads before, the area unfolded into a packed little neighborhood with houses close enough to each other that people could have talked to each other out of their windows if they been so inclined. It was dark, and the streetlamps were sparse, but they were there. In addition, most every house had a light on the porch that was lit up as though everyone wanted to make it clear that they welcomed company at any hour.

 

Daryl had no sure way of knowing that there would be no light on at 724, but he had a gut feeling that the person who lived there probably wouldn’t be the kind that wanted to seem too welcoming of company. 

 

As they eased slowly down the street, Alice leaned over Daryl so that she could see the house numbers better. Not all of them were visible, but they were able to see enough on the mailboxes to figure out if they were going in the right direction. They were also able to predict which one would be 724 as they approached it.

Just as Daryl thought, 724 was the only house around that didn't have a light burning on the porch. This asshole wasn't welcoming visitors. It didn't matter to Daryl, though, because this wasn't a courtesy call.

 

Daryl park the truck on the street. He pulled right up against the curb. He killed the engine and the lights. He wouldn’t be there long and he didn’t want to attract the attention of the neighbors. Even though they would have a better chance of finding a needle in a haystack than they would have of finding that old truck again, Daryl still didn't want to take any chances.

 

As instructed, Alice was staying in the truck. She wouldn't come out unless she was needed. Daryl hoped she wouldn’t be needed. He had a feeling that he could handle this himself. After all, he was only going to have a conversation with the man.

 

Daryl rang the doorbell, and then he quickly knocked three times on the door. He waited a moment and was just about to knock again when the door open a crack. He was mostly talking to an eyeball that peered at him through the crack.

 

“Who the hell are you?” The man snarled. It was all Daryl could do not to laugh. He could tell the guy was given to intimidation, but Daryl wasn't easily intimidated.

 

“Just somebody who wants to talk to you,” Daryl said.

 

“I ain’t interested in none of that religious shit,” the man said. “Ain’t goin’ to your church and I don’t need your pamphlets.”

 

Daryl did laugh now.

 

“Well it’s your lucky day,” Daryl said, “because I ain’t here with no religious shit. And I'm not sellin’ nothin’, and I don't got no damn cookies, either. I just want to talk to you.”

 

“I don’t know you,” the man responded, “so I don’t really think I have anything to say to you.” 

 

“I thought you might say that,” Daryl said. “Are you Ed Peletier?”

“Who the hell are you?” Ed snarled in return. 

 

“Am I supposed to take that as a yes?” Daryl asked. “I really prefer direct answers.”

 

“It’s none of your damn business who the hell I am if you don’t tell me who the hell you are,” Ed responded. 

 

“I’m just a friendly neighbor,” Daryl said. “With an important message for you.” 

 

“What the hell kind of message could you have for me?”

 

“I know your wife. Your ex-wife. An’ your lil’ girl, too. Know the kinda person you are. Know how you treated them. I know you didn’t deserve what the hell you had an’ you ain’t knowed what the hell to do with it.”

“Were you the asshole that was fuckin’ my wife?” Ed asked.

 

“Far as I know,” Daryl said. “Weren’t nobody fuckin’ your wife. I’d venture to say that you was included in that. Or—at least you weren’t doin’ a damn good job of it.”

“You fuckin’ listen here!” Ed snarled. He pulled the door all the way open then. He sized himself up against Daryl. Daryl smirked at him. Maybe the man outweighed him, but Daryl wasn’t afraid of his size. It took a hell of a lot more than a couple of pounds to intimidate Daryl. Daryl only hoped that Ed Peletier had the sense to be as intimidated by Daryl as he should be.

Daryl had hit a sore spot on purpose. No man liked their manhood questioned—least of all a man like Ed Peletier. Men that weren’t too secure in themselves couldn’t handle anyone bringing their manhood into question. 

Men who thought it was fine and good to beat their wives were never very secure in their manhood. Daryl considered that common knowledge.

 

“I don’t got to listen to a single damned thing,” Daryl said, maintaining his calm. He knew men like Ed. Not letting them get him riled up would intimidate them more than any angry threats that he could spit at them. “You’re the one who’s going to listen. And I want you to listen real good—‘cause I’m tellin’ you this for your benefit. Stay the hell away from her. She don’t want a damn thing to do with you. Not no more. You didn’t know how to take care of what’cha had an’ you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to have her as no wife an’ you don’t deserve to have no kid. So you just keep your distance.”

 

“I don't think it's for you to say,” Ed declared. 

 

Daryl hummed and shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Maybe it ain’t,” Daryl said. “Call it makin’ a judgement call. I made it. I’m statin’ it right here and right now. Plain and clear so you can hear it. Stay the fuck away from her. From both of ‘em. Because if you don’t? You’ll see me again. And it won’t be a friendly call for a little chat the next time you see me—whether it’s at your door, or your workplace, or whatever damn hole in the wall you slither into. Because when I come back—if you make me come back—there ain’t gonna be no damn where that you can hide from me. I’ll be able to find you no matter where the hell you go.” 

Daryl delivered the words to the man in almost even and cool tone. He leaned into him so that he could hear him, but his voice wouldn’t travel. There would be no neighbors that were disturbed by Daryl’s visit. 

It was very likely that his tone was one of the biggest reasons that Ed’s expression looked the way that it did. He thought he was good at hiding fear, but he wasn’t. Daryl could tell that he was damn near pissing his pants. 

 

“Are you threatening me?” Ed asked. 

“No,” Daryl said. “I’m not threatening you. I’m makin’ you a promise. The kind of promise you can count on. I’m good on my word and good at keepin’ my promises.”

“What the hell are you?” Ed asked. “Some kind of henchman?” 

 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“No,” he said. “No—nothin’ like that. In fact, we always got insurance that the people that we spend time with absolutely don’t die. Dyin’ is sometimes the easy part. So, like I said, we got insurance against that. We’re not into murder. No—no, man. What I’m talkin’ about? It’s a whole lot worse than just killin’ your sorry ass. What I’m talkin’ about is the slow dismantling of your entire fuckin’ life. By the time I’m done, you’re gonna agree with me that just lettin’ you die woulda been the easy way out all around.” Daryl smiled at Ed. He was getting to him. He could tell. Ed didn’t know who he was. He had no way to identify Daryl. He was terrified. The funniest part, perhaps, was that he’d have reason to be even more terrified if he had a way of actually knowing who Daryl was and who the “we” behind him was. 

But Daryl had left the cut in the truck.

They didn’t want to be traced. You never wore a cut on this particular kind of business trip. 

“In fact,” Daryl added, keeping Ed’s attention and building his discomfort, “we’ve even been known to stop a few suicides. Figured they weren’t really ready to go yet. That's just another judgment call, of course, but we've all made a few of those.”

 

“I'll call the fucking police,” Ed said.

Daryl laughed. 

“You couldn’t really call ‘em until after the fact because you don’t got a leg to stand on. And if you don’t fuck with her—then don’t nobody fuck with you. So what would you tell ‘em any damn way? You beat your wife? You was so damn horrible to her that she finally left you, took your kid, an’ got a restrainin’ order against you. That’cha decided to walk through that shit an’ do somethin’ to her so somebody come after your ass for it? You think we can't make this shit look like it’s self-defense? Do you think we can’t make it so it looks like you're the damn crazy ass that's tryin’ to pin some shit on her? Don’t you think the cops are gonna look out for this woman before they look out for your sorry ass? You think I’m dumb enough that I ain’t coverin’ my own damn tracks?”

Ed stared at him, hard as Daryl offered him a string of questions that Ed had to know were rhetorical. Even if he’d wanted to, Ed couldn’t respond because he knew the truth of everything that Daryl had said. He had nothing to fear if he left Carol and Sophia alone. He could rest easy at night. 

If he didn’t, though, he would pay for whatever he did or tried to do. And the cops wouldn’t help him because the Judges would make sure that there was no way that he looked innocent or even credible. 

Ed was fucked, and Daryl felt like he knew it. 

Daryl chuckled. 

“You ain’t callin’ the cops. Not tonight and not ever. You wouldn't dare. Because you know they got a folder as thick as a good ass steak that’s just on your indiscretions against that very wife I’m tellin’ you to leave alone. So you gonna do what I’m tellin’ you to do. You gonna leave Carol alone. Go to court and do what’cha gotta do. Then, if you got the sense God give you, you’re gonna disappear. You should prob’ly sell this house ‘cause she’s gonna get some of that in the divorce. Then you oughta find you a new place to live. I’d probably find me a new place somewhere where nobody knew who the hell I was or what I'd done. I would certainly move out of this town. If I were you, I'd probably move out of Georgia. Might even think about gettin’ out the fuckin’ Southeast. I hear Canada is a real nice place. One thing I’d do for certain, though, if I was you, was what the hell I told you. Stay so damn far away from her that I can't even think that maybe you was responsible for anything that happened to her. You catch my drift? Because if anything does happen to her – anything at all? I'ma hold you personally responsible.”

Ed stared at him, his mouth partially open, for a moment. He closed it and opened it again like he might speak. Then he closed it again. He didn’t know what to say because he was still trying to decide if the whole thing was real. He was probably wondering if Daryl was some kind of figment of his imagination. 

Daryl had seen it before. He nodded his head.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re trying to decide if I’m serious. Let me help you out. I'm serious. You just do what I'm telling you to do, and you don't never see me again. Believe me that's how the hell I want it. I want it so that if we should ever bump into each other again, it's on friendly terms. Ain’t that how you want it?”

 

“I don't want shit to do with you,” Ed said, finding his voice.

 

“Then stay the hell away from her,” Daryl said with a shrug. “That's all the hell you got to do. But you have a good night. Sleep well. Have some sweet dreams. And make sure the last damn time you see her, it's court ordered. In a court room. Under judge and jury. Because if it ain’t, you might be gettin’ real familiar with the local ICU.”

 

Daryl didn’t give Ed the opportunity to come out of his stupor and respond. He didn't give him the opportunity to do something stupid, which he knew he would when he finally thawed out. A man like Ed didn't like to be threatened. His masculinity was far too delicate for that. The only reason he wasn't starting anything was because he was still too surprised that Daryl was even there and speaking to him. He possibly didn't even believe that the conversation was real. 

 

But it was real, and it would take it a while for everything to sink in. Daryl would be gone by then. In fact, he be so gone, that Ed might even question whether or not the whole conversation had taken place, and he might even question his sanity, but one thing he was probably likely to do was to heed Daryl’s words because he was afraid that what he had heard was true.

 

Daryl didn’t bid Ed a final farewell or anything of the like. He simply turned and walked down the driveway. He got into the truck, closed the door, and lit a cigarette. Ed stood there, still holding the door open. Finally Ed closed the door, apparently realizing that Daryl wasn't going to drive off until he had done so. Then Daryl cranked the truck and drove off. He was down at the end of the road, ready to turn back onto one of the main roads, when he shoved his hand into the peanut bag and pulled out a peanut. He rolled down his window so that he could both flick cigarette ashes and throw peanut shells out of it.

It was a nice night, anyway, and Daryl had always liked riding with the windows down when he was confined to the interior of a vehicle. 

 

Alice picked up munching on the peanuts again—something she’d given up while the truck had been parked. She reached over and took Daryl’s cigarette pack out of his pocket without asking permission. She knew he wouldn’t say anything. She helped herself to one of the cigarettes and used Daryl’s lighter to light it.

 

“So you're not going to say how it went?” She finally asked. She’d sat on the question as long as she was willing to do so.

 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

 

“I think it went pretty well,” he said.

 

“You think he got the message?” Alice asked. 

 

“Oh—he got the message,” Daryl said. “Hand-delivered. Signed and sealed. Good as any subpoena.” 

 

“You think he's going to listen?” Alice asked.

 

“If he's got a brain in his head,” Daryl said.

 

“Then that's questionable,” Alice said. 

 

Daryl chuckled.

 

“It is,” he said. “You're right. But we’ll hope for the best. We’ll all hope that Ed is smarter than his appearance gives him the credit of bein’. Good damn peanuts, Al. I’m glad you got ‘em.” 

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AN: So real life and work mean that I have very little time to write. I’m squeezing it in here and there. I apologize for it taking so long. It also means that I’m not doing a very good job of responding to too many reviews. I hope you’ll forgive me for that. I have to make the choice between spending a couple of minutes responding or spending a couple of minutes getting one paragraph closer to having something to offer you. If someone is reviewing, I know someone is reading, so I assume that you’d really rather have a little more of the story. I just want you to know that I appreciate every word you guys leave me. I read your reviews many times, especially when I need a little inspiration or just a pick-me-up from a less than stellar day. I hope you’ve enjoyed the chapter and I’ll try to get you the next one as soon as possible!


	26. Chapter 26

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol’s job at the shop was pretty simple. She was something of a secretary. She answered the phone, called customers, accepted deliveries, and—following information on a clipboard—she placed deliveries in the area where the person that required them was working. When she wasn’t taking care of those jobs, she worked on sorting old paperwork that had been tossed haphazardly in boxes in the back, and she threw out anything that was old enough it would never come up again. 

It wasn’t a hard job, but it could certainly fill the hours. 

The shop was every bit as rowdy as the bar, though it was a different kind of rowdy. The men that surrounded Carol worked hard, but they played hard as well. One thing she noticed was that they teased each other mercilessly and it didn’t take much for them to latch onto something.

When Daryl came to work late, there were more than a few hoots and suggestions that he’d spent the whole night out doing something he ought not to have been doing with someone they’d find out eventually.

Carol couldn’t help but notice that it was only Daryl’s real brother—Merle—that didn’t give him a hard time about being late. He stood to the side and chuckled at the harassment of the others who worked at the shop, but he didn’t join in. 

Carol was already learning that business in the club was on a need-to-know basis, and maybe it meant that many of the brothers didn’t need to know what Merle obviously knew already.

Carol clearly didn’t need to know where Daryl had been either—at least not in Andrea’s opinion. After Andrea had dropped off Sophia and was driving Carol to the shop, Carol had mentioned Daryl’s absence at the bar the night before. She hadn’t mentioned anything else to her. She thought it was best to keep some things to herself since secrecy seemed to be the name of the game. 

Andrea had shrugged off Carol’s question by simply saying that Daryl had some work to do with Alice and they’d gone to take care of business. Carol hadn’t pressed for more because Andrea’s tone had pretty much let her know that it wasn’t open to discussion.

Carol had no right to question Daryl, either, and she knew that.

But she had to know.

Carol slipped outside on a pretend mission to check for the keys to a car whenever she noticed Daryl stepping out to do something. The real keys were in her pocket, but she pretended they’d been misplaced—probably left in the car by accident. She staggered her exit and Daryl’s exit enough that she hoped nobody would notice they were both out there at the same time. She didn’t want his brothers to tease him since they were already giving him a hard time about where he’d been the night before.

Carol found him smoking a cigarette and contemplating the quarter panel of a car that had just been brought in that morning. 

“Sideswiped or what the hell happened?” Daryl asked when Carol walked out. 

“Can I have a cigarette?” She asked. Without response, Daryl offered her the pack and his lighter. She returned both to him after helping herself and he dropped them back in his pocket. “They said it was a deer.” 

“Fuck if that was a deer,” Daryl said with a laugh. “Who was it?” 

Carol hummed.

“If I remember the name correctly it was something like Leanna Grimes?” Carol offered. 

Now it was Daryl’s turn to hum. 

“Lori?” He asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t remember without looking at the paperwork,” Carol said. She was almost grateful that they had work to discuss so that, if anybody were to question the nature of their conversation, they could simply say it was about work and they wouldn’t have to give the brothers any more ammunition with which to harass Daryl.

“Lori Grimes,” Daryl said. “I’d bet my nuts on it. She wrecks her car about once a fuckin’ month. Who brung it up here? Her or the sheriff?” 

“It was a man,” Carol said. “But he wasn’t wearing a uniform. Her husband.”

“Rick. He’s off today. She backed into something probably,” Daryl said. “Whatever—it don’t matter. Merle’ll handle the whole damn thing. Don’t make no never mind to me. I just fix ‘em an’ roll ‘em out. The rest of it ain’t my business.”

Carol’s stomach lurched a little when she saw her opportunity to question him.

“I’ve noticed there’s a lot of that not-my-business attitude around here,” Carol said. 

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

“Sometimes things run smoother that way,” he said.

“Sometimes they do,” Carol said. “But sometimes it leads to dishonesty.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You gonna run with a MC, you might wanna get used to the idea that sometimes there’s a lil’ bit of dishonesty. It’s better that way. Better for you. Andrea’ll tell you—you don’t ask no questions unless you lookin’ for an answer. And you damn well better be willin’ to live with what’cha learn. If you ain’t ready to accept that, it’s best to keep your ears closed an’ your eyes down.”

“Are you doing something illegal?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Right now I’m smokin’ a cigarette,” Daryl offered.

“Do you do illegal things?” Carol asked.

“You wanna know the answer to that?” Daryl challenged.

Carol swallowed.

“Maybe not,” she said. 

“Then I ain’t gonna say,” Daryl said. “I’m gonna say that’cha don’t got shit to worry about. You good here. You’re clean. There ain’t shit gonna blow back on you or Sophia. I can promise you that. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“The terrible thing is that I believe you,” Carol said.

Daryl smiled at her, the corner of his mouth just barely turning up.

“Good,” he said. “You ought to. I’m an honest person.” 

“I believe that, too,” Carol offered. She swallowed. “So be honest with me—where were you last night?” 

“You really wanna know?” Daryl asked again, some challenge to his voice.

Carol considered it. It felt dangerous to ask questions. It wasn’t that she feared Daryl or even that she feared the club. What she feared was the answer to the questions. She feared knowing something that she thought she wanted to know only to discover that she would have preferred to live in some kind of bliss of shrouded truth.

Carol stepped closer to Daryl. She noticed a look of something flash in his eyes. 

Was it fear? Was Daryl afraid of her? 

It seemed almost ridiculous to think that the man in front of her—decked out in denim and leather with scars on his hands and arms and tattoos sprinkled here and there—might be frightened of her. 

It was strangely endearing as well, though.

Carol found that she liked it, though she swore to herself that she’d never take advantage of it. A little of a certain kind of fear could be healthy, perhaps. Maybe it could even be invigorating. A lot of it, though, and a more dangerous kind of fear, was nothing less than torture. 

She would never torture Daryl, even if he gave her the power to do so. 

“Daryl—I’m coming out of a...out of a really bad marriage,” Carol said.

“I know,” Daryl said quietly.

“I’m a little bit shy,” Carol said. “And—a little bit nervous.”

“I know,” Daryl said. “Remember? You make me nervous, too.”

Carol smiled to herself. 

He’d said it, but it was obvious that he wasn’t lying. 

“I don’t want to get hurt,” Carol said.

“I don’t wanna see you hurt,” Daryl offered.

“I mean not physically,” Carol said. “But—I also mean emotionally.”

“I swear that—well, I don’t want’cha hurt no way an’ no how.”

“I believe you,” Carol said.

“You ought to,” Daryl said.

Carol laughed nervously to herself. She drew off her cigarette and noticed her hands were shaking slightly. She glanced at Daryl. He mirrored her. He drew off his cigarette with shaky hands as well. He didn’t say anything about her hands and she did him the same courtesy.

“I just want to know—Daryl—please tell me if you’re seeing some other woman,” Carol said.

Daryl snorted. The snort then turned into a laugh that rolled around in Daryl’s chest for a moment. Carol didn’t think what she’d said was that funny, but clearly it had struck Daryl just right. His laughter renewed even after he’d gotten it under control and Carol gave him the time to finally reach the point where he cleared his throat and looked at her. 

“I was with Alice last night. She’s the only woman I was with—but I swear it weren’t nothin’ like that. We had somethin’ to take care of. Somethin’ that had to be done. You wanna know more’n that—I’d be glad to tell you. Happy to. But not here an’ not standin’ outside the shop. You wanna know more’n that—you gotta have dinner with me. Spend the evenin’ with me. Somewhere quiet.” He quickly held his hands up in mock surrender after he transferred his cigarette to his lips where the last bit of it bounced when he spoke. “And I’m sayin’ dinner. Talkin’. Swear I ain’t goin’ no faster’n that. A private meal with me.”

“I have to work,” Carol said.

“I know the boss,” Daryl said.

“I need the money,” Carol said.

Daryl smiled at her.

“I’ll match the most you’ve ever brought in for a night just for one quiet dinner with you,” Daryl said. “And I’ll even buy—whatever you want. Pay for the sitter for Soph. Whatever you want, Carol. I’m just askin’ for dinner. Eat with me. Just you an’ me.” 

Carol felt her cheeks burn warm. 

“I couldn’t take all that,” she said. 

“Then just let me buy you dinner,” Daryl said. “An’ maybe—tomorrow I could drop a couple bucks in the tip jar for the good company you gave me or somethin’ to make you feel better about the lost tips.”

Carol looked around. They were alone. She almost felt like she wanted someone to magically appear that could tell her whether or not she should take him up on the offer. She almost wished someone would tell her if she was safe to go out with him or if she was making a mistake. She wished she had someone who could promise her that she wouldn’t get hurt.

Of course, Daryl was promising her that she wouldn’t get hurt.

And something in her simply couldn’t help but believe him.

“You’re not seeing anybody else?” Carol asked.

Daryl smiled. He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“I didn’t even know ‘til today that I was seein’ you,” Daryl challenged.

Carol swallowed.

“Did I speak too soon?” She asked.

“I think it’s about the best news I heard all day,” Daryl said. “You think you spoke too soon?” 

“I’m not divorced yet,” Carol said.

“I’m not askin’ you to marry me,” Daryl replied. Carol could have sworn she almost heard something more hanging in the air, but Daryl left the silence there. He didn’t fill it. He let the silence wrap around them for a long minute. He dropped his cigarette butt—now spent—and scrubbed it on the concrete beneath his foot where someone would sweep it up later when they cleaned up everything else that got dropped in the parking lot. “Dinner,” Daryl said. “Fancy or fuckin’ ham sandwiches—whatever the hell you want is fine with me. I’d like to talk to you anyway. Maybe—answer some of your questions. Whatta you say?”

Carol considered it. 

It was dinner, and this was the kind of dinner invitation that Carol didn’t really mind receiving. It was genuine. Honest. Daryl wanted dinner with her. The only thing that worried her, really, was that he wanted to talk to her and that often meant something bad. 

“Something wrong?” Carol dared to ask. 

Daryl shook his head.

“I hope to God not,” he said. “I’m hopin’ everything’s very—very—right.” 

“I can’t be out too late,” Carol said. 

“No later’n comin’ in from the bar,” Daryl said. “Earlier if you want. We’ll have dinner. Relieve your babysitter. You can put Soph to bed, if that’s what’cha want.”

“Where do we have dinner?” Carol asked.

“Where do you want?” Daryl asked.

“Surprise me,” Carol said.

Daryl smiled at her. 

“You serious, then? You’re gonna have dinner with me?” He asked.

Carol laughed to herself.

“I’m serious,” she said. 

Daryl nodded his head. 

“Good,” he said. He cleared his throat. “You—wanna keep that just between the two of us or...?”

He didn’t finish his question, but Carol heard the end of it without him even having to say it. Did she want to keep this—like everything else, it seemed—on a strictly need-to-know basis or was she willing to let the club know that she was having a quiet dinner with Daryl?

Carol swallowed. 

Letting the club know felt official. Maybe it wasn’t something serious like a marriage proposal, but it felt like letting the family know. There was some expectation there. It was opening the door for curiosity, for talk, and for questions. It was letting everyone know, if anyone was wondering, that Carol was officially interested in someone.

And she wasn’t leading anyone—except one very particular brother—anywhere.

Carol leaned forward and smiled at Daryl with her answer on her lips. He must have heard it, loud and clear, even though she didn’t say anything to him with her voice because he leaned forward to accept her answer.

Carol felt the surge run through her body that seemed to appear every time Daryl touched her lips with his. She closed her eyes to the welcomed feeling of his hands touching her back, pulling her closer to him, with some trepidation.

She thought she could feel those hands—so strong and hard—tremble slightly as they rested against her. 

She was sorry when the kiss broke, but she laughed to herself when Daryl’s face ran red and he jumped at the sound of his older brother’s voice.

“Alright! Break it the fuck up! This here’s an establishment of workin’—not no damned high school dance. Earn your damn paychecks ‘fore I have to fire you both. I swear—can’t get no good damn help around here...”

But as Carol turned, her own face warm, to head back into work, she noticed that Merle was watching her—his own cigarette freshly lit and hanging from his lips—as she walked. 

There was no sign of irritation on his face as she rushed back inside.

Merle Dixon looked pleased.


	27. Chapter 27

AN: Here we are, the first part of the date. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“I have to admit,” Carol said, “that when you said we would go to dinner, I kind of thought it might be somewhere else.” 

 

“Where did you want to go?” Daryl asked. 

“Nowhere, really,” Carol admitted with a shrug.

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“Then I'd say that's just about where we are,” Daryl said. “You said you wanted to see where I lived, so this is where I live.”

Daryl had come to pick Carol up on the bike after sending her a message on her cell phone that she should dress casually. The phone was a luxury provided to her by Merle who insisted that it was so that he could reach her for work whenever he needed and that she should have it for the sake of Sophia. Carol hadn’t had the heart to tell Daryl that casual was about the only way she was capable of dressing these days. She had brought very few clothes with her when she’d left Ed and, though she could borrow Andrea’s clothes, the fit wasn’t really perfect on anything she had to wear—brought or borrowed.

Ed had always been very specific about what Carol could and couldn’t wear. He’d never allowed her to wear anything that he thought costed a lot of money—even if it really hadn’t—and he wouldn’t allow her to wear anything that he said made her vain or cocky. He’d also banned clothes that he thought made other men look at her or, as he often described it, were clothes that she wore to purposefully get the attention of other men so that she could cheat on him—even though Carol had never cheated on him at all. As a result, Carol’s clothes had always had to be at least a little ill-fitting to keep even the slightest bit of peace around Ed.

Andrea let Carol borrow her clothes, but they weren’t exactly Carol’s size so they sometimes fit a little awkwardly. 

The few items that Carol had bought for herself since she’d arrived in Liberty were for work—and that meant that they had to be casual. If she had dressed any other way in either of her places of employment, she would have stuck out to the point that it would have been uncomfortable and awkward. 

Even though she’d chosen to pair nothing more than a decent-fitting pair of jeans with one of Andrea’s slightly ill-fitting shirts, Daryl still complimented her when he picked her up and offered her his helmet to wear. 

And now Carol was standing in the living room of a single wide trailer that stood on a large plot of land on the far side of Liberty. On the ride over, Carol had admired how serene it seemed. It wasn’t that far, she was sure, from the town, but the road was sleepy enough that it seemed like they’d driven out of the world entirely before Daryl pulled into the driveway of the trailer. 

They didn’t have neighbors and it was the kind of peaceful that gave Carol a sleepy and satisfied feeling just standing on their porch and waiting while Daryl searched out his keys. 

The little trailer was well-kept, but it was clear that Daryl and Merle lived there. This was their home and they were men. They were doing well to pick up after themselves and keep up with the household maintenance. It was evident that Daryl had tried to clean before he’d picked her up, but it was also clear that he wasn’t that great at it. The line of dirt on the floor showed where he’d stopped trying to sweep the dirt into the dustpan. The cleaner left out on the cabinet showed evidence of a recent scrubbing that was possibly interrupted by some other task. The cigarette butts overflowing onto the table suggested that there were some chores that rarely got seen to.

And here and there, Carol could see touches that immediately demonstrated that Andrea had staked some kind of claim in the home. It was probably Andrea that bought the welcome mat. It was probably Andrea that had put the trinkets on the shelf. The potted plant that was half dead had probably arrived there thanks to Andrea’s efforts to make the house less Spartan. The throw on the back of the couch in warm and welcoming colors was likely a touch added by Andrea.

But the home was relatively clean and it was well-cared for. 

 

“It's nice,” Carol offered. “I like it.”

 

Daryl laughed to himself. Carol was starting to realize that there was a certain laugh he had that was a nervous laugh. Daryl used it when he seemed to not know what else to say or do. He looked around his own home like he’d never been there before, and then he shrugged his shoulders. 

 

“I guess it'll do,” he said. “It’s a roof over our heads. It’s clean. We don’t got rats and roaches or anything like that. We got a washing machine, and it only took us a couple of times to learn to separate the clothes before we washed ‘em an’ ended up with a mess of wrong-colored clothes.” 

Carol laughed to herself and shook her head. Daryl looked pleased with her laughter, even though his cheeks burned pink.

“To be honest, the trailer’s just somethin’ to live in,” Daryl said. “We bought the land ‘cause we liked it. Bought up all we could afford an’ added to it later. Plan was eventually build a little house. Maybe two if we got reason not to live together. The trailer—it’s just a place to live ‘til there’s another place to live. I guess—maybe that’s why it’s not so special an’ don’t look so good. It’s mostly just me an’ Merle...”

Carol cut him off. 

“You don't have to defend your home to me,” Carol said. “You don't have to defend anything to me. I'm living with my daughter in Andrea’s spare room. I don't even have a room of my own. I'm certainly in no position to judge anyone. I think your trailer is very nice.”

“I got a room of my own,” Daryl said. “You can see it—if you want, I mean. But it ain’t nothin’ special. Bed an’ a chest of drawers. Secondhand nightstand. A chair that I don’t sit in, but it holds my clothes when they don’t make it to the basket that Andrea give me to put in the closet. It’s a room, but it ain’t much more’n that.”

Carol smiled at him. She understood that Daryl’s offer was an offer to see his room and nothing more. She could tell by the expression on his face and the tone of his voice that he was simply being hospitable. She didn’t have a room, and he didn’t want her to feel bad about that. He was more than willing to show her that having a room wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“I’d like to see your room,” she said. “I’d like to see your whole house. The grand tour. I promise I won’t judge anything.”

Daryl smiled at her. 

“An’ I won’t neither,” Daryl said. “I mean—about you livin’ in Andrea’s spare room with Sophia an’ all. You doin’ the best you can for the both of you an’ you’ve—well you’ve done a lot. Ain’t nobody in no position to judge you for any of it. The thing about judgin’ people is—most of us ain’t in no position to judge any damn body. An’ if we are? Just wait. It won’t be too damn long ‘fore the wind turns again.”

Carol laughed to herself. 

“Kind of ironic, don’t you think?” Carol mused.

“What?” Daryl asked.

Carol stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and touched her hand to the patch on the front of Daryl’s cut—the patch that identified him as the Vice President of the Judges of Liberty. 

Daryl ran his tongue over his lips and touched his hand to Carol’s. There was some trepidation there, like he expected her to pull away. It was as though he expected her to panic when she realized that her hand was resting on his chest. She did neither. 

“Maybe it’s supposed to be ironic,” Daryl said. He cleared his throat and, without saying anything more about the Judges, he launched into discussing the dinner—a dinner that Carol could at least somewhat smell cooking already. “Steaks are marinating. It’s gonna be a while ‘cause I gotta—ya know—fire up the grill an’ all. Figured we could have a salad so I got that done. In the fridge. I didn’t know what’cha like, but I love potatoes. Got ‘em cooked in the pot over there. Just gotta warm ‘em up when the steaks is cooked. But I figured the steaks would be better fresh. They wouldn’t be no good if I made ‘em just to let ‘em sit an’ get cold.”

Carol smiled at him. She raised her eyebrows at him. 

“And you cook, too,” she mused. 

There it was again. That nervous laughter came bubbling out of Daryl and Carol’s chest caught at the sound of it. It triggered a nervous laugh in Carol, too, that was equal parts anxiety and genuine amusement. Being in Daryl’s presence was something completely different from anything that Carol had ever known before—and she liked it. 

Ed had fed on Carol’s fear. Not in the beginning, of course, but in the end. He’d always had a strong personality and, perhaps, that was what had attracted Carol to him in the beginning. Ed’s sense of humor had been dry and unexpected. When he made her laugh, especially in the earliest days of their courtship, it came out of nowhere. Then his sense of humor would seem to go into hiding, as suddenly as it had emerged, until he was ready to bring it back out again—in the end, he’d rarely felt like bringing it out. In the beginning, though, Ed had been charming. He’d been arrogant too—or maybe he’d simply been insecure and the arrogance had been a cover for something he wasn’t comfortable feeling. With time, though, the arrogance and insecurity had grown—and that’s when Ed had become dangerous. One day at a time he’d simply loved Carol less and fed on her fear more. 

Even when it was good between them, though, Ed had never—not once—made Carol feel like she was something that truly had him awestruck. 

 

Daryl made her feel, though, like he was awestruck by her. He made her feel strangely powerful—whereas Ed had always made sure she knew that he was the one who carried all the power. Carol wasn’t sure how to even process the new feeling.

It was an interesting dynamic as well. Everything about Daryl suggested that he could be physically in control of nearly anyone that he wanted to control. Overpowering Carol would likely not even cost him his breath—and that was given that he was a heavy smoker. He was lean and tight. Even though he wore his shirts loose, the way they hung made it clear that there was a musclebound body underneath them. When she leaned against him on the bike, his back was hard against her. His arms were hard and rippled with muscles that came from physical labor and hard work. Even when he’d given her a gentle hug—of which she’d gotten a few from him—Carol could feel that Daryl was a man that was very strong. His gentleness was sometimes less gentle than it was clear that he intended it to be. He probably didn’t even realize how strong he was. 

And yet, Carol was almost certain that she had felt a tremble run through him on more than one occasion when he touched her.

It was clear that he was nervous now. 

Yet he didn’t seem threatened by the power that Carol seemed to have over him. He didn’t seem bothered by the strange fear that she seemed to inspire in him. Instead, he simply swallowed it down, gave her a nervous smile, and quickly tried his best to get the conversation going once more. 

“I guess you can call it cooking,” Daryl said. “I mean I get in the kitchen and beat a few pots and pans. But they mostly simple dishes. I do some all right chicken, and I'm good with the grill, but Merle’s really better with the grill. I cook a lotta potatoes. I like potatoes just about any way you can make ‘em. I do some vegetables so we're not always relyin’ on Andrea to cook or eatin’ shit outta some box. We do dinner for Andrea some nights. She does it for us some nights. I don’t bake, though. Nothin’. Andrea bakes. Sometime she gets nervous, and when she gets nervous, or stressed because she's got something going on, she'll bake so she feels better.” Daryl was relaxing. The more he talked, the more he relaxed. Carol could feel it and his relaxation had the strange effect of making her relax as well. He laughed to himself. “When she bakes like that, she'll come over here with the car just loaded down with cakes an’ pies an’ cookies ‘til it’ll just about make you sick. She goes around like some damn Meals on Wheels and delivers this shit to everybody in the club.” He stopped, suddenly, and raised an eyebrow at Carol. “Am I—am I talkin’ too much?” 

 

“I think you're talking just about the perfect amount,” Carol said. “I enjoy it. I want to know more. About you and Andrea and the Judges and—everything. But—I do want to know what it is that you wanted to talk to me about. It’s going to worry me and I don’t—well, I don’t want it ruining the whole night. Have I done something wrong, Daryl?” 

Daryl swallowed, then, and something flashed in his eyes. He looked like he was trying to swallow down briars. 

“No,” he said. “No—you ain’t done a thing wrong. I’m just—hopin’ that I ain’t neither.”

Carol furrowed her brow at him.

“What are you talking about?” Carol asked. 

He shook his head.

“I was hopin’ that we could get the date goin’ first. In case—you know—I didn’t want it to be over ‘fore it starts. But—maybe it’s better to just get everything out there ‘fore we even get started. Then you don’t get mad later that’cha didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Carol asked.

“Let’s get a beer,” Daryl said. “We’ll go start the grill an’ I’ll tell you. OK? I’ll grab the steaks an’ you grab a couple beers.” 

11111111111111111111111111111111

AN: I thought I’d throw this out here as something of a little interesting (or not so interesting, you be the judge) aside. I’m not a song-fic person in that I don’t like to write a story that goes with the plot of a song. However, I am definitely a song person in that there are certain songs that get me right into the mood of a certain story (which is the way that I can sometimes write chapters, much later, for fics that have long been finished). If you were to ask, I’d probably be able to give you a “theme” song for just about any fic or, at the very least, be able to give you songs that related to my feelings during certain parts.

All that I’ve said just to tell you that, if you’re interested in the “mood” of this story, you can listen to “The Broken Ones” by Dia Frampton. It’s sort of the “theme” song for this one (though I have quite a few that go with different relationships and parts of this story, if anyone is interested). It might give you some insight into our Judges and their extended family.


	28. Chapter 28

AN: Here we are, a little more here. There’s more to the date.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Carol stood hugging herself with the arm that wasn’t holding her beer. She watched as Daryl got the grill going and closed the lid so that it could ready itself for the steaks. He stepped away from it and lit a cigarette. He offered the pack in her direction and she took one for the added level of occupation it would bring to her hands. Daryl leaned forward and lit her cigarette before he scratched at his face and then took a drink from his beer.

“I don’t know how the hell to tell you this except to just tell you,” Daryl said. “But I’ma beg you to not get pissed off if you got it in you to do that.”

“You’re making me nervous,” Carol offered.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Well—you always make me nervous,” Daryl responded. “But—the thing is that I’ve spent a good bit of time in my life scarin’ the piss outta people. Some I don’t mean to scare. Others I do.”

“Do you mean to scare me?” Carol asked, raising her eyebrow at him. He shook his head. 

“Never,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Not you. But I know from Andrea that’cha restrainin’ order ain’t come through yet. Some bureaucratic bullshit that says you can’t be protected until some judge has all his shit lined up just the way he likes it. It’s bullshit ‘cause shouldn’t nothin’ matter but you an’ Sophia bein’ safe an’ fuck the paperwork.”

Carol felt a slight untangling of the tension in her chest and back. 

“He doesn’t know where we are,” Carol said. She was relying on that to keep her feelings of terror at bay, but they bubbled up every time she thought of Ed. They bubbled up when she lie in bed at night—seeking comfort in the fact that Andrea was only a few feet away. They bubbled up when she was at the bar or at the shop and she sought comfort in the fact that—if the next person to walk through the door was Ed like her imagination told her it would be—he would have to walk through a swarm of rowdy bikers to reach her. “He can’t find us.”

“You right,” Daryl assured her. “But just in case—I took it upon myself to put a detail down at Sophia’s school. Got a prospect down there. Every hour that she’s at school, he’s there. Keepin’ her covered at all times. If anybody so much as looks suspicious, he’s to send out a damn APB that’ll reach every Judge between here an’ fuckin’ Virginia.” 

Carol felt a flood of emotion in her chest. 

“You thought I would be mad about that?” Carol asked, barely able to hear her own words as she breathed them out.

Daryl swallowed. He drank some of the beer, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with her. She let him have his moment and she smoked her cigarette. Her own throat ached at the relief she felt that her daughter was safe. Her daughter, even when she couldn’t see her, had someone watching over her who was big and strong and able to protect her against the man who might hurt her—the man who was supposed to love her more than anything in this world but never had.

“You ain’t heard it all,” Daryl said.

Immediately Daryl’s words made Carol’s blood run cold again.

“Go ahead,” she said.

He glanced at her and quickly diverted his eyes once more.

“I know you’re Carol McAlister Peletier,” Daryl said. “You’re married to Ed Peletier. Gettin’ divorced, I mean.”

Carol’s heart thundered in her chest. Ed’s name sounded so strange in Daryl’s mouth. It felt like worlds colliding that she really didn’t want to interact. 

“Andrea told you?” Carol asked.

“I read your file,” Daryl said. “Andrea ain’t told me nothing. Nobody did. It was me—so if you gonna be pissed, I’m who the hell you oughta be pissed at. I invaded your privacy to read your file.”

“Why would you care about him enough to read my file?” Carol asked.

“Because I know a restrainin’ order ain’t shit but a piece of paper,” Daryl said. “I know a piece of paper don’t hold every asshole back. I know the cops ain’t always reliable, neither. The ones we got around here do a lot more talkin’ than anything else. When I was gone, I paid Ed a little visit. Showed up on his doorstep. Don’t worry.”

Daryl held up his hand to stop Carol from saying anything before she could even begin to speak. She wasn’t sure what to say and she didn’t want to put her foot in her mouth, so she simply guarded her silence and decided to give him the chance to finish speaking. 

“I didn’t have no cut on. Didn’t have no tags on the truck. Didn’t give him no way of knowin’ who I was or where the hell you were,” Daryl assured her. “I just told him that he ought not to go lookin’ for you if he had any sense of self-preservation. Told him he weren’t gonna like it if he had to see me again and—if he got close to you—he would see me again.” 

Carol considered what Daryl had said and what he’d done. Her chest ached with the variety of emotions floating around in it. All of them were crashing together.

“You pissed?” Daryl pressed after a moment. “Wanna leave ‘fore I even get these steaks on? ‘Cause—I ain’t gonna blame you if you do. Ain’t gonna try to stop you. But—if you takin’ requests—I wish you wouldn’t.”

Carol swallowed.

He was begging her with his eyes. It was clear and Carol had never been pleaded with quite the way that Daryl was obviously pleading with her now.

“You didn’t tell him we were in Liberty,” Carol said.

Daryl shook his head. 

“Wouldn’t do that,” Daryl said. “Didn’t have on my cut. He don’t know where you are. But if he was to find Liberty...”

Daryl didn’t finish, but somehow Carol felt like she heard the end of it. 

“Why do you care enough to...why?” Carol asked, the question getting caught up in her mouth.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know if I understand it either,” Daryl said. “Not entirely. Wanna say it was a judgement call—same as I’d make for anybody. And I would. Wanna say it’s just the right thing to do. Tell him to keep his ass away from here ‘cause we don’t need the likes of him around. An’ it is—the right thing to do, I mean. I’d do it for anybody who needed it. But—that ain’t all.”

Carol swallowed. There was something lodged in her throat. She hadn’t eaten anything, so she could be sure that it was only the pseudo-solid form of emotion that was choking her. She swallowed against it a couple of times and tried to wash it down with the beer that was sweating in her hand. The liquid barely had any effect on the perceived lump.

“What’s the rest of it?” Carol asked.

“I don’t know,” Daryl said, his voice barely escaping is lips. “And that’s the truth.” He shook his head. “I don’t know—but I’d like to figure it out. Say if you gonna go or you gonna stay—‘cause I can take you home or I can put these steaks on. It’s up to you.”

Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat again and Daryl looked at her. His gaze was locked on her now. His features were pained. 

“Please—don’t cry,” Daryl said. “I’m OK with it, I mean—like when you was sad ‘cause Sophia was goin’ to school. But—I don’t like knowin’ it was me who done it. I know you ain’t needed me meddlin’ in shit an’ I know you prob’ly wish I’da just fucked off an’ left it alone but...I couldn’t do that.”

“Daryl,” Carol said sharply, cutting him off before he could talk himself into one of the verbal vortexes that he knew he could easily get tangled into. He stopped abruptly. Carol sucked in a breath and let it out. “You told Ed to stay away?” Daryl bit at his cuticle and nodded his head. He had the same expression on his face that Sophia got sometimes when she was afraid of being scolded for something that she’d done. He was preparing himself.

But it was more than that. More than for a simple scolding for something minor, Daryl was steeling himself against something he imagined was going to hurt a great deal more. 

Daryl was preparing himself for an impact.

And it struck Carol hard in the chest and nearly took her breath. She understood. The circumstances were different, and she wouldn’t actually strike Daryl, but she understood the reaction of someone who knew no way that something might go other than badly—very badly. When she opened her mouth to speak, Daryl winced at her and covered it over by bothering his cuticle more as though he wasn’t really affected by her presence. 

If she had been mad at all, every last bit of it dissolved.

“That’s—that’s the kindest thing that anybody’s ever done for me,” Carol said. 

Daryl didn’t stop worrying his thumb, but his shoulders did slump forward a little as his muscles let go of some of the tension that he’d pumped into them. 

“You mad?” Daryl asked, finally moving his thumb. He washed his question down with half his beer.

“I’m afraid of my husband,” Carol admitted. “My soon-to-be-ex-husband,” she corrected quickly. “I’m afraid of what he might do if he finds me. If he finds my daughter.” 

“He won’t,” Daryl said. 

“And if he does,” Carol said.

Daryl simply nodded his head as an answer to a question that Carol didn’t actually have to ask. If he were to show up, he’d simply be sent back where he came from—or at least that was how Carol was choosing to think of it at the moment. 

“I’ve always kept him from putting his hands on her,” Carol said.

“You’re a good Ma,” Daryl offered. “I’ma keep him from puttin’ his hands on you, too.”

“Would you still feel that way?” Carol asked. “If I left right now.”

“Wouldn’t change that,” Daryl said. “Wouldn’t change anything except—I wouldn’t want’cha to leave.” 

“You better start cooking those steaks,” Carol said. “I’m getting hungry.” 

Daryl smiled. 

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Carol confirmed. 

Daryl kept casting glances at her while he put the steaks on the grill like he expected it all to be some kind of cruel trick. He looked at her like he expected her to tell him that she hadn’t meant it and she was really leaving. 

Carol simply stood there, nursing her beer, and offering him a gentle smile when he glanced at her. 

“So what did you have planned?” Carol asked. “To go with dinner?” 

Daryl looked surprised and then a little sheepish.

“Uh---to be honest? I didn’t have nothin’ planned. Didn’t really expect that there’d be nothin’ more’n this conversation. Thought you might leave afterward,” Daryl admitted.

“And now that I’m not leaving?” Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself. He shrugged his shoulders.

“There’s a lotta beer in there,” he said. “Whatever you want. Hell—Andrea keeps the house stocked. We got movies if you wanna watch somethin’. The food won’t be too bad. We can do—ya know. Whatever you want.”

“You’re letting me choose?” Carol asked.

“I guess I am,” Daryl said.

“And you’re not going to mind if I choose something you don’t want?” Carol asked. “You don’t have something in mind that you’re keeping a secret?” 

“I got nothin’ in mind,” Daryl said. “Except eatin’ this food an’ drinkin’ a couple more beers maybe. Spendin’ a little time doin’ what you want.”

“I have to get back to Andrea’s,” Carol warned. “I have a daughter. We can’t drink too much.”

“And if we do, I know people that’ll give us a ride,” Daryl said with a laugh. “Come get us. Private taxi service an’ all.” 

“I don’t want to drink too much,” Carol said. 

“You’re safe with me,” Daryl said. Carol believed him. “But—if you don’t want it, I ain’t forcin’ it down your throat. An’ I promise you that I can more’n hold three beers on top of all I’m about to eat.” 

Carol nodded her acceptance.

“OK,” she said, giving voice to that acceptance.

“What did you have a mind to do?” Daryl asked.

“Talk,” Carol said.

“Just talk?” Daryl asked.

Carol nodded.

“Just talk,” she confirmed. “See the rest of your trailer. Maybe—sit out here? It’s nice. Just talk.”

Daryl smiled.

“OK,” he said.

“That sounds alright?” Carol asked.

“We got some of them mosquito lamps in the house,” Daryl said. “We’ll eat inside and then—we’ll just talk.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not real good at the fine art of conversation, as Merle would say, but I’m willin’ to give it a try. But—you owe me this time. At least two questions.” 

Carol swallowed. She could feel the cold fear of having to share information about herself. She could feel the fear of being judged.

But Daryl had promised not to judge her and she’d promised not to judge him.

“You OK?” Daryl asked. “You changin’ your mind? Wantin’ to leave now?”

“No,” Carol said. “You’re right. Two questions. And—maybe I’ll think of one or two for you.”


	29. Chapter 29

AN: Here we go, I thought I might as well get this out. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

“I know what you’re going to ask me,” Carol said. 

“Psychic, huh?” Daryl asked. He laughed to himself. “That’s some trick. Especially since I wasn’t sure what I was gonna ask you.”

“You were going to ask me the same thing that I’ve heard before. Probably the same thing that everyone wants to ask me. Why didn’t I just leave him before? But this time you’re going to want more than the half-ass answer.” Carol responded.

She watched as Daryl poured nearly half a bottle of steak sauce onto his plate. If the cow hadn’t been cooked to death, it was clear that Daryl intended to drown it. Her own steak was practically cooked to perfection—just like she’d ordered it. The potatoes were good as well and the salad was fresh. She couldn’t complain about the quality of anything that she’d tasted so far. 

“I figure you didn’t leave him ‘cause you couldn’t, or it weren’t the right time,” Daryl said. “Hell—do it really matter? You left him now.” 

“I left him before,” Carol said. “I thought about leaving him every time he put his hands on me. But what do you do? I had nothing. I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have money. He made sure of that. He made sure to remind me, too, that I wasn’t going to have anything if I left him. I kept thinking that I couldn’t support Sophia like that. And she didn’t deserve to suffer because I wasn’t able to take care of her. It’s—it’s not as easy to get away as—well, as you might think.”

Daryl was staring at her when Carol looked at him. He shook his head at her and pointed to her plate with his knife. 

“Eat your food,” he said. “If it’s gonna put you off your food—we don’t gotta talk about it.”

Carol returned to her food. She laughed to herself. 

“I guess someone like you probably finds it pretty pathetic to think that I stayed all that time,” Carol said. 

“Someone like me?” Daryl asked.

“Someone who’s used to not taking any shit from anyone, right?” Carol asked. 

Daryl laughed to himself. He shook his head. 

“If you think that’s who I am, then you got a lot to learn about me,” Daryl said. “A whole damn lot to learn.”

He didn’t sound like there was any malice behind the statement. He’d made it as a matter-of-fact statement. There was so much that Carol didn’t know about him. That’s all he was saying. And he had to be right because she barely knew him, just the same as he barely knew her. Now he’d piqued her interest, though.

“Like what?” Carol asked.

“What?” Daryl responded. 

“What do I need to learn about you?” Carol asked.

Daryl stared at her and dramatically chewed his steak. He’d put far too much in his mouth and he was having a hard time working his way through it. His table manners were atrocious, but Carol assumed that he probably didn’t have to worry too much about how he ate around his brothers. He shrugged his shoulders. 

“Forget it,” he said. “It’s nothin’.” 

“I want to know,” Carol said. “Because I think it is something. And that’s what we’re doing, right? Getting to know one another. I married a man when I was really too young to get married. I thought he was charming. I thought—he would be a good husband. I thought he was a good man. So much so, in fact, that I forgave him when he started to lash out. I made excuses for him. It was a bad day at work. The car got a flat tire. He was really tired because he worked hard. I didn’t leave him—even when I had to learn to treat my own injuries because the hospital staff started to get suspicious and we couldn’t afford the bills that were piling up. I showed you mine—the painful, ugly truth of it. That’s worth something about you, isn’t it?” 

Daryl frowned at his steak like it had disappointed him. He stabbed it with his fork twice. Carol was just on the verge of telling him to forget it because she didn’t want to cause him any anguish when he practically threw down his fork and stood up. 

“What are you doing?” Carol asked.

“You wanna know about me?” He asked.

Carol didn’t tell him that having him standing over her like that made her heart pick up a few beats. She simply nodded at him and trusted that the frustration in his voice was part of some internal conflict and not something he intended to take out on her. 

Daryl rubbed his hands together in frustration and then he grabbed the bottom of his shirt. Carol started to protest the action—nervous about the fact that he was choosing to start stripping off clothes—but she stopped when he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side like he’d ripped off a band aid. He turned around before Carol could say anything about his chiseled chest or the tattoos his shirt had hid. He turned his back to Carol. 

And Carol’s heart clenched. 

On his back was another tattoo—demons. They were perfectly placed, too, on Daryl’s shoulder. Just below them were the gruesome streaks that Carol was pretty sure would be burned into her memory. It may have been a whip that caused them. It could have been a belt. 

“I’m sorry,” Carol breathed out.

“You seen enough?” Daryl asked. Carol hummed at him and he went for his shirt. He pulled it back over his head and sat down in the same flustered state he’d been in before. He was breathing heavily. 

“I’m sorry,” Carol repeated.

“Don’t be,” Daryl said. He laughed to himself and handed Carol a napkin from the metal napkin holder in the middle of the table. “Hey—hey—don’t cry for me, Argentina,” he teased. Carol accepted the napkin, laughed at his joke, and dabbed at her eyes. 

“I didn’t mean for you to...” Carol stopped.

“Show you that’cha not alone in the world?” Daryl asked. He picked up his knife and fork and returned to butchering his steak. “Hell—people oughta do that shit more often. Maybe we wouldn’t feel so damned alone sometimes if we was all honest about—about what the hell we hidin’ underneath our clothes.”

“I’ve got scars too,” Carol said. “Not as bad. But burns and cuts. All in places—well, in places where people wouldn’t see them. Not if I’m being modest. It was sort of a sick thing that Ed did. He called it insurance that I wouldn’t try to run around on him. I never did—run around on him. But the scars are there.”

“I’d like to see ‘em someday,” Daryl said sincerely. “Shit,” he said, dropping his head. “There’s like a hundred and ten percent chance I shouldn’ta said that shit. So can you scratch that from the record?”

“I’m not offended,” Carol said. “Maybe...”

She didn’t finish, but Daryl did look up at her. He practically peeked at her like he was afraid of making full eye contact. 

“Who was it?” She asked. 

“My old man,” Daryl said. “I was smaller’n Sophia when it started. Way on bigger’n she was when it stopped. My Ma never got the ability to leave him, though. Not the way you done. She left him by leavin’ all of us. Just—burned up to ashes an’ she weren’t there no more.” Carol felt a shiver run through her body at the way that Daryl said it. It was something that was simply part of his story. He told it with a little bit of regret and maybe sadness to his voice, but the true sting of it had passed for him years ago. He raised his eyebrows at Carol. “And don’t tell me you’re sorry no more. You know as good as I do that sorry don’t change shit. Besides—it just is what it is now. You owe me, though—at least scratchin’ that stupid statement I made from the record and havin’ another beer with me—for showin’ you that. I don’t show that to just anybody.” 

“So why me?” Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. 

“So you know you ain’t alone. Not even close. So—you know me better. Maybe just so I get it out there in the open. An’ so you know—I ain’t judgin’ you. You not judgin’ me, are you?” 

“No,” Carol said. “I’m not. I don’t feel the slightest bit judgmental. But your situation was a lot different than mine.” 

“Everyone’s situations is different,” Daryl said. “And that’s what the hell makes ‘em all the same.”

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I’d very much like to have another beer with you, Daryl,” Carol said. “But—I have to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Daryl asked. 

“You said—I’m safe with you,” Carol said. “If that beer’s too much, what’d you mean by that?” 

“I meant—ya know,” Daryl said. He shrugged and put his knife and fork down again to drink from the beer he’d been nursing. “I meant that—weren’t nothin’ gonna happen that’cha didn’t want to happen.”

“What if—after I drank for a while—I thought I wanted it to happen?” Carol asked. 

“You ain’t drunk right now,” Daryl said. “Are you? You ain’t had but—half a beer an’ all that food.”

Carol smiled at him. 

“I’m not drunk,” she assured him.

“You gonna want somethin’ to happen?” He asked. 

Carol thought about it a moment. Just the thought made her stomach churn. She shook her head. 

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m not—I’m just not ready for something like that.”

“Then it ain’t gonna happen,” Daryl said. “That’s what I mean. Even if you was drinkin’. Hell—I bet I could keep you offa me even if you was throwin’ yourself at me. It’d be hard, but I think I could handle it.”

“But not everybody could,” Carol said.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“What if I told you that—a brother warned me that not everybody could...well...keep their hands to themselves? Not everybody could—distinguish between being friendly and something more. Maybe they couldn’t take no for an answer.” 

Daryl stared at her. He had a certain expression when something struck him as quite serious. It was a hard expression and it almost frightened Carol except that she knew it wasn’t aimed at her. 

“If it was a brother,” Daryl said, “then he damned well better know how to take no for an answer or he’ll end up with his dick nailed to a fuckin’ doorframe like a lucky ass horseshoe.”

Carol swallowed.

“He did take no for an answer,” Carol said. “But—he warned me that not everybody would.”

“Who was it?” Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head. 

“Please don’t ask me that,” Carol said. “I don’t want to start any trouble.”

“He didn’t hurt you?” Daryl asked. Carol shook her head. “Then there ain’t no trouble. But I won’t force you to tell me. If anybody tries to hurt you, though...”

“I understand,” Carol said. “It goes against the code. Of the club.” 

“Just fuckin’ wrong,” Daryl mused to a chunk of potato that he speared. “You ain’t in no danger. Even if I had to tell you no an’ fight you off myself—I ain’t gonna let’cha leave here with nothin’ worse’n a hangover to regret. You got my word on that an’ it’s a good word.” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“I believe you,” she said. “I bet you’ve done a lot of beating women off in your life.” Daryl hummed at her in question. “Beating women off,” Carol repeated. “I don’t think that came out right. Fighting them off—when they threw themselves at you. That’s what I meant. I bet you’ve done a lot of it.” 

Daryl hummed and shook his head. 

“Maybe? I don’t know. I done my share of tellin’ people no, I guess. Most the time it was knowin’ she was after somethin’, but it weren’t me.” 

“What was it?” Carol asked. 

“The cut,” Daryl said. “Always the cut more’n me. Some fantasy of who I’d be—what I’d be like. It weren’t never the real me that they wanted. Even the ones I let in...” He stopped and shook his head. He put his fork down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Can—we stop talkin’ about me just a lil’ bit? Maybe we talk about you or...if you don’t wanna do that...then tell me about Sophia. Hell—we can talk about anything. I just...”

“I understand,” Carol said. She laughed to herself. “It starts to feel like being under a hot light.” 

“Wanna confess my sins,” Daryl said with a laugh. “But that shit’d take all night.” 

“We’ll talk about something else,” Carol said. “Maybe we’ll just switch topics. Talk about something nice and light. I think I still owe you a question.”

Daryl considered it a long moment and then he finally looked at her. His face relaxed and the corner of his mouth curled upward in a crooked smile.

“I can’t think of but one question that I got right now,” Daryl said. 

“What’s that?” Carol asked. 

“You gotta promise you still gonna sit outside with me. Have another beer ‘fore I get’cha home.” 

Carol swallowed.

“That makes me nervous,” Carol said. 

“Makes me nervous to ask it,” Daryl countered. “So?” 

“Does my answer matter?” 

“It matters,” Daryl said, “in that I got hopes of how you’ll answer—but it don’t change nothin’. It don’t matter like that.” 

Carol sucked in a breath and released it. She drank down what was left of her beer. Daryl laughed to himself.

“You ready?” He asked. Carol nodded her head. He picked up his own beer and drained it. “Liquid courage,” he teased. “You said you ain’t wantin’ nothin’ to happen. Did you—did you mean that for—well, did you mean that for just tonight or did you mean that for like—for always?” 

Carol smiled to herself. Her heart drummed around wildly in her chest. The way that Daryl was looking at her, the way that the smile sat perfectly on his face and challenged her, and the way that he made her feel like she could win this challenge—all of those things made Carol almost wish that she hadn’t answered so hastily before. 

“I certainly didn’t mean it for always,” she said. 

Daryl’s smile broadened and he nodded his head. 

“Finish your food,” he said. “You gonna love how the crickets sound and there’s a little creek not far from here so you can kinda hear the frogs when they get to goin’ too.”

“We’ll have to be quiet to hear them,” Carol said. 

“If you don’t wanna...” Daryl said. 

“I do,” Carol said. “But—it’s really dark out there.” 

“We’ll have the mosquito lamps,” Daryl offered.

Carol laughed to herself. It wasn’t always easy to get him to agree with her. Sometimes he missed what she was throwing at him unless she hit him with it very directly.

“I might be afraid of the dark, Daryl,” Carol said. “I might—need you to hold my hand.” 

His cheeks ran red. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I reckon I can handle that.” 

“Good,” Carol said. “I’m counting on it.”

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AN: How many chapters are too many to load in a day? LOL  
I want to thank all of you for the wonderful reception of this fic. Your reviews and comments mean more than you know! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	30. Chapter 30

AN: Here we are, another chapter.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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“I hope to hell, lil’ brother, that you're about to tell me that holding hands is some kinda code for somethin’ good an’ you ain’t wasted your whole damn night,” Merle said. 

 

He laughed to himself and drank down part of his beer. He shook his head, already anticipating that Daryl’s response was going to be something that was dramatically different than what he wanted to imagine.

 

“It ain’t code for shit, Merle,” Daryl said. “It’s what we done.”

“You spend the whole damn time just gazin’ into each other’s eyes?” Merle asked. 

“Fuck you,” Daryl muttered. “It was dark. Just them lil’ bitty lamps for light. Besides, what you got against holdin’ hands, Merle? Maybe Andrea’d like it if you held her hand once in a while.” 

Merle laughed to himself.

“Don’t’cha worry about Andrea,” Merle said. “She gets everything she likes an’ some things she ain’t even realized she’d like, too. But we weren’t talkin’ about me. I spent the whole damn night watchin’ that kid with Andrea so that you could hold hands with somebody. Seen a whole movie about some fucked up woman wantin’ her a dog skin coat. Wanted to give you time, brother. But you ain’t made no progress. That lil’ mouse is just hangin’ out there an’ you ain’t makin’ no effort to come along an’ get her off the damn limb. You don’t—an’ I don’t gotta tell you that somebody else is gonna get there ‘fore you do.” 

Daryl frowned deeply at his brother.

“She don’t wanna move too fast, Merle,” Daryl said. “An’ I gotta respect that. Ain’t that what the hell you’d want me to do? What you’d say was right? Respect what the hell she wants. Let her set the speed. I let her know I’m there. Let her know I’m interested in hearin’ what she wants. But I ain’t gonna force nothin’ on her that she don’t want. I’ma let her take her damn time.” He drank down half of his own beer. “I got time. It’s about all the fuck I really got. Time and a shitload of patience. Besides—it sounds like one of these fuckers done barked up her tree an’ they got her alright. Got her treed an’ scared.”

Merle picked at the basket of fried mozzarella sticks that he’d been working on for the last longest. In contrast to nearly everyone else in the free world, Merle preferred to let the sticks cool. He hated burning his tongue on scalding cheese and he liked the texture of chewing through them when they were less stringy. Daryl watched him as he devoured one stick whole, practically without chewing, and brought the other to hover just outside his lips as a promise that he would eat it the same way.

“The hell you talkin’ about, brother?” Merle asked.

“Someone come onto her,” Daryl said. “Told her—said she was too friendly. Said people could take it wrong. Said she oughta know that he was gonna take her ‘no,’ but that didn’t mean that ‘no’ was always gonna be respected by everyone around here.”

“It damn well better be,” Merle commented around the second piece of cooled cheese. “The only fuckin’ time I better hear that no didn’t mean just exactly what it says is when you got some other shit that means no. Then you respect fuckin’ bologna or window or golf club or whatever the hell else you come up with to take its place.”

“You an’ Andrea the only two people in the whole damn world that does that,” Daryl offered. 

“We ain’t,” Merle said with a laugh. “Who knows—you might try it for yourself someday lil’ brother. If you ever get to bring them damned blue balls out to play again. Who the fuck was it, anyway? Scared the Mouse?” 

He cleared his throat, obviously choking on a little of the breading, and quickly washed it down with what was left of his beer. 

Like it was second instinct to her, Carol appeared almost immediately to replace his beer. It had barely touched down on the table before she whisked it away and replaced it with an icy substitute. She put another beer down for Daryl, as well, though she didn’t take his bottle yet. She smiled at Merle.

“Another round of mozzarella sticks, Merle?” Carol asked.

“No,” Merle said, “but how’s the chicken wings tonight?”

“Perfect,” Carol said. “Teeter really cooked the last few batches to perfection. It’s what I had for dinner.” 

“Spicy?” Merle asked. “I don’t want none of them naked ass chicken wings Teeter tries to serve sometimes.”

Carol laughed.

“I’ll make sure they’re good and saucy this time,” Carol said.

“Good,” Merle said. “That’s how the hell I like my chicken and my women—hot an’ saucy.”

He laughed at his own joke and Carol laughed sincerely as well. Then she looked at Daryl and raised her eyebrows. 

“Anything you want?” She asked.

Daryl swallowed. He looked at his brother. His brother was wagging his eyebrows at him. Carol was looking at him expectantly. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to say something that she’d take with her as she walked across the bar to put in an order for wings and to refill some glasses. He wasn’t as good at this, though, as Merle was. He didn't always know the perfect thing to say or the best way to deliver it. Still, he didn’t want to let her go without something. He felt the heat rising up in his face, but he swallowed back against his rising anxiety and hoped his cheeks didn’t burn red.

“Nothin’ that’s on the menu,” Daryl offered.

It really hadn’t come out the way he wanted, and Daryl immediately wanted to kick himself. Carol looked a little surprised, but then her shock melted into a pleased smile. She winked her eye at him.

“Well I’ll just see what I can come up with,” she responded. And without saying anything else, she turned and walked away to continue her work.

Short of prying up a floorboard, digging a hole, and burying himself right then and there, there was no way that Daryl could escape his brother. He could feel his brother’s gaze burning into his flesh. He turned to face him. 

Merle was grinning like a mule eating briars.

“Well,” Merle mused, drawing out the word until it sounded almost like a sentence that was capable of standing on its own. “Maybe lil’ brother ain’t gonna spend his second date braidin’ hair an’ talkin’ about boys with the House Mouse like I was thinkin’ he might.”

“Please don’t call her that,” Daryl said. “I hate that fuckin’ title.”

“She’s good at it,” Merle said. “Nice to everybody. Ain’t nobody here that don’t like her. But that wink—she ain’t givin’ it out free. That was just for you, boy. Now—tell me who the fuck’s got her nervous.”

“She ain’t tellin’,” Daryl said. “An’ I ain’t gonna push her. Said she’s alright. Said he didn’t do nothin’. She was just nervous that I was maybe gonna...or I guess that somebody was.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders. “I just don’t want her afraid. Not of anybody here an’ certainly not of me ‘cause of somethin’ some son-of-a-bitch who had too much to drink said when he was runnin’ off at the mouth.”

“She ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of,” Merle said. “Not with them and not with you. Certainly not with you. You safe as ridin’ a bike with trainin’ wheels,” Merle mused.

“Asshole,” Daryl said.

Merle chuckled.

“I don’t even mean it bad, brother,” Merle said. “Mean to say—if she’s scared a’ fallin’, it just might be that she’s found a good one to get her over that fear. Hell—hold her hand if that’s what it takes. If I was bein’ honest—maybe there were things I shoulda done different with Andrea. Lotta damn things I shoulda done different.”

“You got regrets, you could always make it up to her,” Daryl offered.

“We ain’t crabs,” Merle said. “We don’t go through life backwards. Just be fuckin’ honest with me. Hand to heart, brother. You got a taste for that Mouse?”

Daryl swallowed.

He watched Carol as she moved around. She could work the whole bar like there wasn’t any effort to it. She could make it look like she wasn’t exhausted after working at the shop and then coming there to push fried food and liver-rotting drinks at brothers who didn’t always know how to behave like something that didn’t belong in a zoo.

She was the most beautiful woman that Daryl had ever seen and the way she looked at him made him feel as terrifying as a grizzly bear and as comfortable as a teddy bear all at once. 

Just holding her hand had nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. And the one time that she’d come to sit in his lap—the moment he hadn’t told Merle about because it belonged to just the two of them—she’d rested against him and she’d put her lips right to his ear. She’d told him quietly that he could hold her. That she’d like it if he did. And when he wrapped his arms around her, he’d found out she was telling the truth because she didn’t pull away from him. And when she’d laughed quietly and told him to relax, she didn’t know that he’d done the exact opposite—or maybe she did—because he was afraid that he might just embarrass himself if he relaxed too much in her presence, especially with her resting in his lap like that.

“I just wanna see where it goes, Merle,” Daryl said.

“But you got hopes it’s headin’ somewhere specific,” Merle said.

“Maybe I do,” Daryl said.

“You drove halfway across the damned state to tell a man you’d never seen before that’cha’d fuck up his entire life if he so much as looked at her when it weren’t under the supervision of a judge of the actual fuckin’ court system of Georgia.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. He nodded his head and drank from his beer.

“I did do that,” he said. “But...”

“Don’t even tell me you’da done that shit for anybody,” Merle said. “Not that damn far from Liberty, brother.”

“You’da done it,” Daryl said.

“If he’d showed his ass around here,” Merle said. “But not just as some kinda precursor in case he was thinkin’ about it.” Daryl just smirked at his brother and took a drink from his beer. “I ain’t gonna tell you how the hell to run your life or to handle shit, but I’m gonna warn you that’cha don’t wanna leave the door open too long. Not if it’s somethin’ you’re interested in.”

“You don’t think she might just tell somebody else to fuck off?” Daryl mused. “I mean—she knows what she wants. Don’t she? She’s as capable as anybody else of knowin’ what the hell she wants. Better’n me. Somebody comes barkin’ up her tree, she’ll tell ‘em to fuck all the way off.” 

“Could be they’re more convincin’ than you are,” Merle offered. “Unless you know somethin’ you ain’t sayin’. She got a taste for you, too?” 

Daryl smiled to himself.

“Hell if I’ma put words in her mouth,” Daryl said. “All I’ma say is—she’s got the sense to know what she wants and don’t want. And she knows when the hell she wants it. I ain’t gonna force her into shit...and I ain’t gonna stop her, neither.” He shook his head. “If it ain’t me...it ain’t me. She’s got the right to say it ain’t no matter what my tastes might be inclined toward.”

Merle grunted at him. 

Before he could say anything, though, if he intended to say anything at all, Carol returned with the basket of chicken wings. She placed it down in front of Merle. 

Merle grumbled a thanks to her. Then he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“You ain’t found nothin’ back there can suit my brother?” Merle asked. “’Cause if you ain’t—I could have a couple ideas.”

Carol smiled at Merle and then looked at Daryl. 

“Maybe I did,” Carol said. “But it isn’t ready yet.”

“That’s a shame,” Merle mused.

Daryl shook his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I don’t control him.”

Carol smiled sincerely.

“It is a shame,” she said. “But—we’ll check on it. After the bar closes, maybe.”

Daryl’s heart did a strange sort of dance in his chest. He caught another quick wink from Carol before she tapped Merle’s arm. 

“Another beer?” 

“I’m in the mood for one of them orange sodas that we got in the back back there,” Merle said. “Besides—won’t be long an’ I gotta get on back to Andrea’s. We takin’ over for that Greene girl. Got us a date with Aladdin, she says, an’ his magic carpet.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Carol said.

“I don’t gotta do shit I don’t wanna do,” Merle said.

Carol laughed.

“I believe I’ve heard that before,” she said.

“Then you’d do good to remember it,” Merle said with a laugh. “Looks like Kickstand could use a beer.” He gestured to another table. “Either that or there’s somethin’ flyin’ ‘round his damned head. You feel free to cut him off. Give him a water. Tell him I bought it for him.”

Carol nodded.

“And I’ll get your orange soda,” she said. 

“It ain’t no hurry, darlin’,” Merle commented. 

Carol walked off and Merle slid the basket of chicken in Daryl’s direction.

“Dig in, brother,” he said. He hummed. “You might need your strength for after closin’ time.”

“Don’t be a pig Merle,” Daryl warned.

Merle laughed. 

“At the rate you movin’,” Merle said, “You might get all the way to second base by Christmas.”

“Then it’ll be a Merry Christmas, won’t it?” Daryl mused.

He was thankful for the sudden and loud interruption to the regular happenings of the bar when Alice arrived. She was usually one of the last to arrive on the nights when her work at the hospital allowed her to even have the opportunity to make it to the bar. She believed in making an entrance, so when she came through the door, she did it loudly enough to disturb anyone within a three mile radius. Usually she let out something like a loud hoot or howl when she came through the door and, for as long as Daryl could remember and almost like it was some unspoken rule of the club, nearly everyone in the bar howled back at her. 

She was pleased with the greeting tonight and she waved at everyone and howled again after their response. 

She wasn’t alone tonight, though. Tonight she was accompanied by a woman who was a few inches shorter than her. The woman clung to her arm like she was afraid of letting even an inch of space get between them. She looked around in every direction almost wildly. She was trying to see everything at once and, as a result, was probably at risk of making herself dizzy.

She’d never been in the Chambers before and all the whooping and hollering was probably enough to make anyone uncomfortable that wasn’t accustomed to that level of rowdy activity. 

Daryl stood up and waved at Alice, catching her attention.

“We got room,” he called out. It was all he needed to say to let her know that she and her lady friend were welcomed to join them. 

Maybe Alice’s friend would take a little of Merle’s attention off of Daryl.


	31. Chapter 31

AN: Here we are, another chapter. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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The brothers considered keeping Alice from working herself to death as one of their unofficial-official jobs. She would put in too many hours at the hospital on a regular basis and someone was frequently stopping by to remind her that when her shift was done, she needed to go home.

The ironic thing was that the thing that Alice loved the most and hated the most happened to be exactly the same thing—people.

Alice Walker loved people, but people weren’t always worthy of the love that they were given.

Alice was one of the most skilled surgeons in the area. She was frequently called to travel to other hospitals in the region for particularly delicate surgeries that they might have. Daryl knew that hearts were her specialty in the operating room, but she was known for her steady hand. It was a fact that was ironic to Daryl given that Alice was often quite keyed up outside of the operating room. She was a different person, though, so he’d been told when she put on her mask.

Because she was such a talented surgeon, people were kind to Alice in the professional sense. They needed her. Their loved ones needed her. They treated her well when she was dressed in scrubs. They treated her with respect.

That respect didn’t always extend beyond the sliding doors of the hospital, though.

There were something like ten well-known lesbians in the small, rural town. Alice was one of them and she’d dated just about every other one there was. People didn’t care for her because they didn’t approve of who she loved or how she loved them. 

Daryl never could understand the idea of hating someone for how they loved, but then he never professed to be someone with a grand understanding of the human race and why it worked the way it did.

The worst part, perhaps, of it all was that Alice knew that people didn’t like her on a personal level and she took it personally. She took it very personally.

There had been more than once that Daryl had gone by her house just to sit in the chair in her bedroom while she slept and make double sure that the words she said about hating her life were just words. He’d sit and wait in the quiet while sleep got the alcohol out of her system. He’d been there, many times, to see the dawn chasing the last of the demons out of the room.

Daryl knew as well as anyone, though, that the demons never stayed gone. They always found a time and a place to come slinking back.

Tonight she didn’t look like she was wrestling with demons, though. Tonight she was smiling broadly enough that Daryl could almost count every one of her teeth. She was dressed up. She was wearing makeup. She looked like she’d slept in the past week. She held tight to the hand of the woman who had come with her, even after they sat, and Daryl wondered if she was actually drawing happiness out of the woman through her fingers like some kind of emotional vampire. 

Sadie. That’s what she’d said the woman was called. The woman was dressed like something out of an eighties’ imagining of what a biker might be. She looked like she was wearing a Halloween costume that had been tossed together by someone who had only ever seen a biker in a movie once. 

She was wearing jeans and a denim jacket. Daryl assumed that Alice had told her to wear something durable—or else she’d told her that the reason behind sporting a great deal of leather and denim had to do with avoiding road rash if they had to lay a bike down—but Alice rode a trike and had very little chance of flipping it. She was also wearing a white t-shirt with a band logo on it, and her hair looked like Andrea’s when she washed it and didn’t bother to make it go straight. It was wild and unruly. It was half tied back with a bandana.

And when Daryl and Merle greeted her, she simply stared at both of them with her mouth open for a second before she smiled at them and then looked around again. 

Daryl raised his eyebrows at Alice.

Alice shook Sadie gently and reintroduced them, this time being more intentional with her introduction. 

“Sadie’s deaf,” Alice offered. 

“Dead?” Merle asked, spitting out his word.

“Deaf,” Alice barked out a little louder.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Merle spat. “For a minute I didn’t know what kinda shit you was about to come in here tellin’ us. Some night of the fuckin’ livin’ dead vampire shit.”

“Deaf,” Alice repeated, unmoved by Merle. 

“But I can read lips,” Sadie said. She directed her comment to Alice, since she’d been staring at her, and then she nodded at Daryl and Merle. She smiled at them. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sadie.”

“I’m Daryl,” Daryl said. She’d already been told that, but he felt like the decent thing to do was introduce himself. He could tell that Alice was pretty damn close to hyperventilating, so it was important to her that her brothers receive this woman well.

And they would. At least if Daryl had anything to say about it, they would. 

He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. Merle was regarding Sadie with his mouth partially open. She kept eyeing Merle uncomfortably and then looking back at Daryl. Daryl didn’t want to admit that—just like it was possibly Sadie’s first time encountering a real biker—it was probably Merle’s first time meeting someone who was deaf. He didn’t know what to do. Daryl reached to smack his brother in order to snap him out of his trance.

“Ain’t you gonna be hospitable, Merle?” Daryl asked.

Merle looked at him, brow furrowed, and then he mumbled something.

“Yeah,” he stammered. “Yeah...gotta...fuckin’...”

He never did make a sentence out of the sounds he muttered. Instead, he shoved the basket of chicken wings at Sadie. 

“Good wings,” he yelled. “Eat ‘em!”

Sadie looked at Alice like she’d just been asked to stick her hand in a running lawnmower.

“You don’t have to,” Alice said. “But they are good wings.” 

To demonstrate her feelings on the wings, she reached her hand in the basket and plucked one of the wings out. She dipped it in the sauce and Sadie followed suit. 

Daryl glanced over at his brother who was watching the woman eat with some fascination. Daryl laughed to himself and sat back in his chair. He lifted his beer to drink from it. At least Sadie would keep Merle busy for the rest of the night. He wouldn’t have time to even think about the House Mouse.

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Daryl wiped the bar down while Carol swept the floor. 

Axel, under Merle’s order, had seen to it that Teeter got home. He’d spent a couple of nights in the back room, but Merle argued it was better for him to get a night in his own bed every now and again. Really, Daryl suspected that Merle just wanted to give him and Carol the chance to be alone for a bit after everyone cleared out.

Knowing that made Daryl nervous, though. He didn’t know if Carol had any real expectation for him, but knowing that Merle did made him nervous that he might not truly be able to predict exactly how things were supposed to go. 

Maybe he was missing something.

He cleaned in silence and Carol was quiet except for the fact that, every now and again, she hummed a piece of a song that had clearly gotten stuck in her head. 

When she disappeared in the back to close things down, Daryl did what he traditionally did and poured her a drink. He had it ready for her when she came back into the main part of the bar. She stopped and stared at him when she saw it.

“One for the road?” Daryl asked. “What’s wrong? Why you lookin’ like you seen a ghost?” 

Carol’s cheeks ran red where they’d been almost sheet white a second before. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just—he poured me a drink.”

“He?” Daryl asked, glancing around. He suddenly wondered if there was someone—or something—in the bar that he couldn’t see. 

“The brother,” Carol said. “Who—told me I was a tease.”

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“You’re anything but a tease,” he said. “He poured himself a shot and took it before he chased it down with the class of water that he’d poured for himself. Their dishes, as they always were, would be there in the morning. He wasn’t worried about it. He’d be the one that stopped by to see that Teeter was fine, more than likely, and he’d wash the dishes up then. He pushed Carol’s shot glass back toward the center of the bar so that she would be clear on the fact that she wasn’t going to be forced to drink it. “But if you don’t want it, then you sure don’t gotta drink it.”

Carol walked over and took the shot. She slammed the shot glass down on the bar like someone who had been doing hard shots for an hour. 

Daryl caught her arm. 

“You OK?” He asked. “I’m gettin’ the feelin’ the asshole shook you up more’n you told me.”

“He did,” Carol admitted. “I felt—I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“But nothin’ happened?” Daryl asked. 

Carol shook her head. 

“Not really,” she said. “I just felt...that’s all, really. I just felt.” 

“You sure you don’t wanna tell me who he is?” Daryl asked. “I could talk to him for you. Straighten his ass out.”

Carol shook her head. 

“Can I have another shot?” She asked.

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her. 

“You OK for that?” He asked. “This is strong.”

Carol nodded her head. 

“Please,” she said. 

He laughed to himself and poured her another shot. He held it out and she took it. Her hand ghosted against his and he shivered. She drank the shot, put the glass down more delicately this time, and then she laughed to herself.

“Can I have a cigarette?” She asked. “Please.” She added.

Daryl offered her a cigarette and lit it for her. She thanked him as she blew out the smoke. He helped himself to one as well and Carol sat down on the stool next to him. She faced him, barely seated on the stool. She was half-standing, but Daryl got the strange sensation that it was because she wanted to be closer to him and not because she was leaving open the ability to move away quickly. He shifted forward a little so that they were closer. 

Her eyes were dancing back and forth quickly. It might be the effects of the alcohol already hitting her bloodstream. Two shots might have been a bit much for her. 

“Can I have a kiss?” Carol asked in the same tone of voice she’d used earlier. “Please?” She added, raising her eyebrows at Daryl.

Daryl swallowed and nodded his head. He rested his cigarette in the ashtray and Carol mirrored him. She looked at him expectantly and he did the same. Finally he raised his eyebrows at her and gestured with his hands that she should move in his direction.

“Well,” he said, “come on and get it.”

She smiled at him and stood enough to bring them together. The kiss tasted like smoke and whiskey. More than the kiss, though, Daryl’s brain went wild at the fact that Carol somewhat sat on his lap as she kissed him. She rested herself against his leg. He held her there even though it was an uncomfortable position.

He wouldn’t tell her it was uncomfortable because he’d give anything for her to simply remain there. 

She did for a while. And she kissed him deeply. She nipped at his lip and she toyed with his tongue. Her hands held to the back of his neck and she ran her fingers through his hair. Daryl wasn’t able to return the kiss as wholeheartedly because he was mostly using his hands to hold her in place. He did kiss her back, though, and he went after her when she broke the kiss. 

Neither of them was breathing normally when Carol finally pulled them apart and dabbed at her lips with her fingertips.

“It’s late,” she said. She took her cigarette. It had burned to the filter, but she finished the last draw off of it that she could coax out of it. Daryl didn’t bother. He simply snubbed his out and hit his feet to match her. 

She surprised him by quickly coming toward him. She wrapped her arms around him and requested another kiss—a request which he filled with great enthusiasm. She pressed her body close to him and broke the kiss with a gasp of surprise. Daryl hissed at her and pushed her away, stepping backward.

“Fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you...?” She raised her eyebrow at him and looked amused. Daryl’s face felt warm. It felt too warm. Suddenly he felt more embarrassed than he could remember feeling in a long time and it made him feel a little angry.

“Well whatta you expect?” He spat. “You pushin’ on me like that an’ kissin’ me like that—an’ I ain’t meant nothin’ by it, but it ain’t like it was all my fault. I can’t always help it.” Carol winced at him and Daryl noticed the step she took backward. He noticed the stance she adopted—one suited to fleeing. He was immediately and profoundly sorry for his tone of voice. “Shit—I’m sorry.”

Carol softened. Her shoulders relaxed.

“I wasn’t mad about it,” she said softly. “I guess I was just—surprised.” 

“Surprised?” Daryl asked.

Carol nodded her head gently. Daryl wished he could get her smile to return from earlier, but he understood that he was the reason that it had vanished. He’d frightened her, even if he hadn’t meant to do it.

“I guess it’s just—it surprised me because of...because...” She didn’t finish telling him why it had surprised her. She swallowed, instead, and started again. “It’s a—a need?” 

“A need?” Daryl asked. He laughed to himself. “I guess—you could call it that. It’s more a want, but my dick’ll do its best to convince me it’s a fuckin’ need, I can promise you that.” She almost looked like she wanted to cry. In fact, Daryl was pretty sure she was going to cry. And he was too afraid to get close to her to try to stop it. “Hey—I’m sorry. You gonna...tell me what’s happenin’ here? Because I can’t lie. I’m at a real fuckin’ disadvantage. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s a want?” Carol asked.

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “That’s—uh—that’s how it works. Figured you—thought you mighta knowed that since you got...Sophia an’ all.” 

Carol visibly tried to swallow, but Daryl could tell she was fighting a strong urge to cry. A tear escaped whether she wanted it to or not, but he didn’t point it out. 

“You want—me?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed nervously to himself.

“You sound so damned surprised,” he said. 

“For a very long time my husband has told me that—it was just a need,” Carol said. “That’s what I’ve hear for...years. Just a biological need. Something that couldn’t be helped. I’d be good enough...because I was the only thing around.” She shook her head at Daryl. “But you didn’t want to hear that.”

Daryl wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it or not. The whole thing had relieved his dick of its crisis, but it had given his stomach a world of problems. 

“It’s OK,” he said. He cleared his throat. Maybe his voice was just a touch ragged. “You had to know, though—I mean whoever the brother was...he come on to you.”

“That was just to see if he could get something,” Carol said. “Like winning a prize. Just a challenge. Not a genuine want.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“I guess I didn’t realize it before,” Daryl said, nipping at his thumb to keep his hands busy.

“What?” Carol asked.

“You don’t hold yourself in real good esteem, do you?” Daryl asked.

Carol stared at him. Her face screwed up a little more and Daryl took a chance. He closed the distance and she didn’t run from him. He pulled her against him and she wrapped her arms around him. She rested her face against his chest. He held her there and let her simply be for a little while. 

He laughed nervously to himself.

“They say your dick can stir up a world of trouble,” Daryl said. “But I gotta admit—I didn’t think about it bein’ quite like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Carol apologized.

“Don’t be,” Daryl said, patting her back because he didn’t know how else to comfort her over what she was going through. “Hell—I was sorry I got a hard on ‘cause I been thinkin’ of ridiculous shit to keep it down an’ it got away from me. If I’da knowed you wanted me to get one...”

Carol pushed away and mopped at her eyes. Daryl instinctively offered her the handkerchief out of his back pocket and she thanked him for it. 

“I’m not ready for...I don’t...” she stammered.

“It’s OK,” Daryl said. “I was teasin’ you. That’s all. You ain’t ready, then you ain’t ready. But—just so you know when you are ready...if you get ready, I mean...it’s a strong want from me. Nothin’ else. Just—a want.”

“Are you going to be—pissed off at me?” Carol asked. “Because you do want, and because I don’t? Tonight? Are you going home pissed off?” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“No,” he said. “In fact—at the risk of pissin’ you off, I’ll tell you that I’m probl’y goin’ home to think of you rather fuckin’ fondly.” 

He waited for a negative response, but Carol actually looked a little pleased. She mopped at her face with the cloth and then blew her nose into the handkerchief.

“I’ll wash it for you,” Carol said. “Bring it to the shop.”

“Take your time,” Daryl said. “I got a whole bunch. You OK?” She nodded. “You ready to go home?” She nodded again. Daryl tentatively put his hand on her back and she let him push her toward the door. She waited while he turned off the lights and locked the door. 

Outside, Daryl offered Carol his helmet. She took it with some hesitation. 

“Daryl,” she said. 

“Hmmm?” He hummed at her. 

“Are you sure you’re not mad?” Carol asked. “You expected more...”

“I didn’t expect nothing,” Daryl said. “To be honest, that kiss was—it was a helluva lot more’n I expected. And I ain’t mad. I’m only gonna be mad if you keep askin’ me that ‘cause I’m tellin’ you that I ain’t and that’s all there is to it.”

“But you wanted more?” Carol asked.

Daryl swallowed.

It was a fine line to tread. A very fine line.

“My body did,” Daryl said, “’cause my dick don’t know shit about timing. He ain’t never understood it. But—the rest of me? Yeah—yeah—I’ll say it. I want more. But that don’t mean I was wantin’ it tonight or expectin’ it tonight. Just—it’s just so you know. If you...ya know...then I want more. That’s all the hell there is to it.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“I like that,” she said. 

“What?” Daryl pressed.

“That’s all the hell there is to it,” Carol said. “I think—.” She stopped and blew out her breath. “No. I want more, too. Not here. Not in the parking lot, but...one day. And that’s all the hell there is to it.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Long as we understand one another,” he said. “Come on—their movie prob’ly put Andrea an’ Merle to sleep an’ Sophia’s probl’y runnin’ wild around the house. Let’s get you home.”


	32. Chapter 32

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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The beginnings of the legal protection for Carol against her soon-to-be ex-husband would bring Ed Peletier straight to Liberty, GA. 

Liberty was the county seat for Liberty County, Georgia. The courthouse in Liberty was barely big enough to mention, but it served its purpose. Being right next to Union County, and not that far from Union proper, which boasted a much bigger courthouse, Liberty often sent her bigger trials and cases to Union. Lawyers such as Andrea were accustomed to working both in and out of town regularly.

But something like Carol’s hearing was small enough that it could be held in the Liberty Courthouse.

And that meant that Ed Peletier would be coming to town.

As soon as Andrea had gotten the news, she’d brought it to Merle. She’d hoped that they’d have the trail in Ed’s territory simply so that it wouldn’t bring the devil right into the place where Carol was finally starting to feel comfortable and safe. They had no such luck, though, and the news had shaken Carol up.

If she was going to relax and consider changing her life at all, it wasn’t going to really happen until the trial was done and Carol felt somewhat like she was moving a step closer to being done with Ed. She certainly wasn’t going to relax while she was facing the fact that soon he’d be right there in her—or rather Andrea’s—backyard.

Daryl hadn’t pushed her, either, to so much as consider anything he might want her to consider during the few days while she’d been dealing with the thought that Ed would be there—on her turf.

That had been exactly how he’d presented it to her, while he was trying to help her deal with the situation: Ed Peletier would be on her turf.

Daryl could tell that Carol hadn’t exactly found comfort or strength in what he’d said. She’d done her best, though, to smile and pretend that his words brought her some kind of help. She’d gone on about her business like she wasn’t fretting over Ed’s coming there. She’d worked in the office of the shop by day, worked at the bar in the evenings, and she’d gone home to sleep in the small bed she shared with Sophia. She’d even given Daryl a kiss or two.

But it was clear that she’d been uncomfortable and worried. No amount of words had brought her any comfort.

Sometimes words just didn’t work like they were supposed to. And Carol didn’t believe, yet, that this was her turf.

Daryl wondered if she started to believe it when he and Merle had passed Andrea’s car and dipped in front of them on the way to the courthouse. He wondered if she’d started to believe it, perhaps, when every brother he could scrounge up out of Liberty had fallen in behind the car in a line that stretched out like a parade for a holiday that the locals were simply choosing to ignore. Daryl wondered if she started to believe it when she got to the courthouse to find that the entire building had been surrounded with bikes parked at every open space and brothers filling the sidewalks from the Union and Nomad chapters of the Judges.

Whether or not she’d believed it, she had walked into the courthouse with her head raised high—right beside Andrea—and she’d come out the same way.

She’d never once ducked her head and Daryl’s chest had swelled with pride for her. 

She was smiling when Andrea opened the door for her and they’d pulled off—a few brothers raising hell for no other reason than because they could had ridden off after them.

Daryl stayed behind with the majority of the brothers. He waved at the policemen that were watching them to see if they were going to start trouble. They had no intention of starting trouble, though. They were gathered together legally and peacefully. They’d only come to offer some silent support to a friend. There was no law, after all, about how many friends someone could have.

When Ed Peletier exited the courthouse building, he looked around. He knew exactly what this was. Daryl was sure that he could feel it all the way down to his toes. He was sure it probably drew Ed’s nuts up inside him somewhere—assuming they’d ever descended.

He knew they were here with a silent warning to him. He was only to be here on legal business. He had no other fucking business in Liberty, Georgia, and the best thing that he could do was to get his ass back to where he belonged.

To be sure he understood, though, Daryl sent an escort with Ed. Five of his nomad brothers had offered to follow Ed Peletier until his home. They would make sure he got home “safely.” They would make sure he knew that they knew where he lived. 

And they would never once threaten him—not in any way that a cop could entertain. They were nomads and they were simply out for a ride. They were free to go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. They were part of the club, but they weren’t tied to any one location.

They might just be staking out a new place to hang their hats. It was only coincidence that Ed Peletier happened to live there. 

It took some time, after Ed had left, for Daryl to make the rounds and thank the brothers who had come. He offered them all handshakes, hugs, and a few words to answer questions about his life. He’d asked a few questions about their lives, checked in on their families, and then he’d invited each and every one of them out to the Chambers that evening for a drink and a game of pool—or whatever else might interest them.

Then, before the cops that were pacing back and forth lost their minds, the brothers had all gone their separate ways to do whatever it was that they had to do before evening. Daryl had gone straight to Andrea’s house. 

As soon as he pulled in the yard, Sophia was already running toward him. He knew she’d be there because he’d passed the Greene girl leaving Andrea’s on his way there. The youngest Greene daughter was barely driving on a license but, like most teens, she’d do anything she could to get behind the wheel. She’d probably offered to drive herself over to keep Sophia during Carol’s court time. She was more than willing to babysit whenever Carol needed her because it meant gas in her tuck and an excuse to take her newly minted license out for another spin. 

She was a good kid. Daryl was fond of most of the Greenes. 

Sophia was a smart kid and she was already learning about the club and bike safety—even if she didn’t know that’s what she was doing. She stood back at a safe distance and gave Daryl time to park his bike and take his helmet off. He rested the helmet on the bike before he held his arms out to her and she practically hopped into his arms. Daryl picked her up above his head and tossed her gently upward and she squealed at him, thrilled with the attention. She wrapped her arms around his neck when he settled her on his hip.

She didn’t know what had happened today. Carol was keeping everything that Sophia knew on a very need-to-know basis and she’d asked that nobody be too obvious in their discussions of things in Sophia’s presence. They were all doing their best to respect that. Anything that Carol had to tell Sophia about her old man was her choice. 

“I got a ball, Daryl,” Sophia informed him. “And a bat. Beth brought it to me ‘cause she said that she didn’t play with it no more. You wanna—did you wanna see it?” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You know I wanna see that shit,” Daryl said. He bent down and put Sophia’s feet on the ground. “Go get it.”

“Sophia—won’t you give Daryl a minute to get settled?” Carol asked as Sophia ran past her. Carol was coming out of the house with Andrea right behind her as Sophia was going in. The screen door never had a chance to close until the three of them had passed through it going their opposite ways.

“I ain’t played ball in years,” Daryl said. 

“She’s never played,” Carol said.

“We oughta have the makin’s of a fine team,” Daryl said with a laugh.

“You don’t have to play,” Carol said. “But then I already know that you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

She didn’t make any announcement about it. She didn’t apologize to Andrea. She didn’t even make a big deal about it. She strolled right to Daryl, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him right on the mouth like she meant it. The easy smile she gave him when she pulled away, though, was even worth more than the kiss at that moment. 

“The judge signed off on it?” Daryl asked.

“Five hundred feet,” Carol said. “Simply because that’s just about as far as they can really enforce. Now we’ve just got to figure out what will happen with the divorce.”

“It’s going to go fine,” Andrea said. “I’ve got a call in to his lawyer so we can talk about things. If we have to go to court, we go to court. We’ve got more than enough to get the divorce and make Ed sorry for most of his life if he wants to fight our demands.”

Daryl laughed to himself. He rubbed Carol’s back where she was standing next to him. She responded by dropping her arm behind him and patting his back. He could feel it, though the leather of his cut somewhat muffled the feeling. 

Andrea intercepted Sophia as she came down off the porch and interrupted her beeline for Daryl by distracting the girl with the immediate request to toss the ball back and forth before Sophia played with Daryl. Daryl was certain it was just to buy he and Carol a moment longer together, but he appreciated it. He brought his hand up to squeeze at Carol’s neck.

“Was it you who did that?” Carol asked.

“Did what?” Daryl asked, pretending he had no idea to what she might be referring.

“Brought all those people today,” Carol said. 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“All them people are your people,” Daryl said. “That’s what’s knowed as a support system.”

“Who were they?” Carol asked. “I didn’t recognize half of them.”

“Brothers from a couple other chapters,” Daryl said. “Union chapter and a handful of the Nomads.”

“Why would they come for me?” Carol asked.

“Because they’re Judges,” Daryl said. “An’ that’s what the hell Judges do. Did it make ya feel better?” 

Carol nodded her head.

“Yeah,” she said. “It did.”

“Make you not feel as scared?” Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself.

“It did,” she said. “It made me feel a lot more confident that—that Ed would leave. That he wouldn’t try anything.”

“He’d be a fuckin’ fool if he did,” Daryl said. It wasn’t a threat. It was simple fact. 

“I didn’t get to thank any of them,” Carol said. 

“You will,” Daryl said. “At least some of ‘em. We don’t get the chance to see each other all that much. Maybe a couple times a year we’ll get to the same rally or we’ll run over to meet up with someone. Don’t get together near enough. Anyway—I invited ‘em back to the Chambers tonight. Told ‘em to bring whoever they got ridin’ bitch, too. Figured we could call up a couple people we know that might wanna come in an’ help serve drinks for the night. Give you the night off to mingle a little. Say some thanks and meet a few people.”

“They want to meet me?” Carol asked. She smiled at Daryl.

He cleared his throat. 

“I mighta told a couple of ‘em that—that maybe you was...”

He stalled. His face felt hot and his head felt a little light. He had never—not once—announced that any woman was important to him to the club. He’d never brought a woman in and expected her to be respected as something of an old lady.

He was wondering, now, if he’d overstepped his boundaries.

“Maybe I was...?” Carol prodded.

“I might not shoulda done it,” Daryl admitted.

“Done what?” Carol asked.

“Mighta told ‘em you was...that you was...somethin’ like my girl,” Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself.

“Your girl?” She asked. “Am I your...girl?” 

“Didn’t know how you’d feel about bein’ my old lady,” Daryl said. “And—I felt like I didn’t wanna just say you was my friend...”

“And what did they say?” Carol asked. “When you said I was—your girl?” 

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. He felt a little embarrassed. He smiled to himself, though, remembering the reactions of the brothers who had never met Carol.

“Congratulated me,” Daryl said. “Mostly they was surprised. Never expected me to—you know—have you to introduce to ‘em.” 

“Maybe they were just surprised you referred to me as your girl,” Carol offered.

Daryl smiled at her.

“I think you think that—I’ve had a lot more women in my life than I have,” Daryl said. 

“I think it doesn’t matter,” Carol said, this time sincerely, “one way or the other.”

“Are you mad that—I said you was my girl?” Daryl asked.

She seemed to consider it a moment.

“Not at all,” Carol said. “Though—if the position of old lady is open, I wouldn’t mind seeing the job description.” 

Daryl swallowed.

“I’ll have to show it to you sometime,” he teased. “Right now, though, I got a date to play baseball with the future female star of the Atlanta Braves. They gonna call her Stealin’-Home Soph bigger’n shit.”

Carol smiled at him and laughed quietly.

“I guess I can let you go,” she said. “As long as—you’ve got a kiss for your girl.” 

Daryl laughed to himself and shook his head at her. 

“You gonna give me hell forever, ain’t you?” He asked.

“I might be counting on it,” Carol teased.

She warmly returned the kiss that Daryl gave to her and then she sat out on Andrea’s little picnic table with Andrea and watched while Daryl and Sophia practiced some pretty bad baseball to the imaginary sound of a packed stadium.


	33. Chapter 33

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Merle had never seen his little brother look as damned happy as he looked with Carol hanging off his arm and following him around as he talked to his brothers. She spent most of the evening glued to him. Alice had brought her new friend, as well, and her friend was glued to her. 

Of course, the sheer size of the crowd, Merle assumed, was probably a bit overwhelming to the both of them. Neither of them was exactly entirely accustomed to the MC as of yet. 

They had a good turnout. Most of the brothers they’d contacted had shown up to have a few drinks, shoot the shit, and catch up while reminiscing about old times. Of course, Merle had lived there long enough to know that meant that all of Liberty was going to come awake in the following days—there was always some kind of response to a large gathering of the Judges—but he didn’t really care. 

The brothers talked about the club. They talked about their families and their old ladies. Some of them had brought fresh new squeezes riding bitch on the back of their bikes and they talked about them. The main topic of conversation, though, was the fact that it looked like Daryl Dixon wanted to stake some kind of claim on a woman.

“Man’s pussy is like his bike,” Abraham Ford mused. He was the president of the Union chapter. Life had handed him one raw deal after another. Merle had known him for years. When he was a brand new patch in Union, his family had been killed in a bad accident on the interstate. Of course nobody actually saw the accident happen, but it had been piss-pouring rain and his wife had been driving with his two kids in the car. She’d run right through the guardrail and it had been a couple of pine trees in the median that had stopped the car from crossing clear over to the other side.

Abraham had to bury all three of them and it nearly killed him. Merle had showed up to the mass funeral with the rest of his brothers in tow.

The MC had, in some ways, saved Abraham’s life. They’d fast-tracked his ass up the ladder toward a leadership role. He’d needed something to hold onto after that. They’d given him what they could offer.

He talked big about being a stud, and maybe he could have had any woman he wanted, but Merle had known him long enough to know that he was mostly talk. Since his wife died he’d stuck to banging a few sweet butts and groupies. He kept a pretty regular piece in a girl named Rosita, but Merle knew he didn’t really care about her in any serious kind of fashion. He liked her for the company, but it was clear on his face that he wasn’t attached.

Abe’s front, though, was that he was a hard-ass and he loved pussy. He was practically swimming in it. Merle let him have it. The fantasy, sometimes, kept the sting of reality from being quite so bad.

“Damn sure is like his bike,” Merle agreed. “Keep your damn hands of it if it don’t belong to ya.”

Abraham laughed.

“I was gonna say that it was up to each man to know what the hell he liked to ride the best. You know if you fit just right in the seat. Wanna ride it every chance you get,” Abraham clarified.

His comment stirred up some laughter from all the brothers gathered around. 

More than a couple little tarts had shown up to serve at the Chambers and every one of them was hoping to land the attention of someone there—whether or not he came with an old lady.

“Ain’t for no man to judge what another man wants to warm his bed,” Twig Jernigan offered—a Nomad who had gotten his name from the fact that he probably weighed fifty pounds and was going on seven foot tall. He laughed to himself. “But he can give him hell about it if it warrants it.” 

Merle lit a cigarette and sat back in his chair. They’d packed themselves around two tables pulled together and they were drinking while others mingled in their own way. Everyone, at least, seemed to be having a good time.

“What about you, Merle?” Finn Winters, another Union brother, asked. 

“What about me?” Merle asked.

“You still ridin’ that same old thing?” Finn asked.

Merle laughed to himself. 

“I hope to hell you talkin’ ‘bout my bike right now, brother,” Merle said as a warning. 

There was a twinkle in Finn’s eye. He’d meant to get Merle’s goat. He laughed to himself.

“Yeah—you ain’t upgraded that bag a’ bolts?” Finn asked.

“I like that bike too damn much,” Merle said. “I won’t never turn my back on her.”

“An’ that piece?” Finn asked. “What’s your ol’ lady’s name?” 

“Andrea,” Merle said. “I don’t turn my back on her neither.”

“Been ridin’ the same damn piece of ass for what? Twenty years?” Another brother mused. “Wore the fuck out is what that piece is. You’d do good to upgrade. Prob’ly wouldn’t know what to do if you got a piece a’ pussy that weren’t so damn stretched out.”

“I’ma give you one stupid ass comment for the night,” Merle said, pointing his finger in the direction of the offending brother. “But one more—and I ain’t responsible for what the hell happens to your fuckin’ face. You hear?” 

“Easy, brother,” Finn said, reaching his hand over and patting Merle’s arm as though to soothe him. “Think he was just suggestin’ that most don’t hold onto a piece that long that they ain’t even chained to.”

“Twenty years goes by faster’n you think,” Merle said. He got a quick “amen” from the brothers who had seen enough years to agree with him. “Man’s pussy is like his bike—he knows what the hell he likes.”

“What about that lil’ sweet piece your brother got?” Finn asked. “He finally found him one that fit?” Finn laughed to himself. “I have to admit. I was startin’ to wonder which side his bread was buttered on.”

“You can keep on wonderin’,” Crockett offered. “She ain’t even let him get close enough to smell that pussy. That House Mouse is nothin’ but a tease.”

Merle felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle at Crockett’s words. The brother had been in the club for a long time—almost as long as Daryl. He was just about the same age as Daryl, too. His name was really Davy Buxley, but nobody called him that who wasn’t coming to collect some kind of bill. He considered himself something of a ladies’ man, and he must have done pretty good because Merle had never known him to sleep alone if he didn’t want to.

But Merle had only heard of Carol even being accused of being a tease once.

“The hell you call her, Crockett?” Merle asked, checking his response so that he wouldn’t give away his suspicion.

“A damn tease,” Crockett said. “Bitch’ll rub all over anybody—make a man think he’s got a chance. But she’s got it locked up tight. She won’t do shit but present Daryl with a laundry list of demands and hoops he’s gotta jump through, but she won’t never give him none.”

Merle washed down the feeling in his stomach with a long swallow of his beer. He raised his hand up so that one of the little tarts would see it and bring him another. They weren’t very good at their jobs, but since they weren’t getting paid shit, he couldn’t very well complain too much.

“You gonna let him get tangled up like that with someone that’s just usin’ him?” Finn asked. There was genuine concern in his question as he directed it at Merle.

“She ain’t,” Merle said. “That Mouse ain’t a tease. She ain’t come on to a soul except—maybe Daryl.”

“She comes on to everyone in here,” Crockett said.

“Big damn difference between bein’ friendly an’ comin’ on,” Merle said. “House Mouse’s gotta be friendly. But I ain’t seen her promisin’ a piece of ass to nobody.” He raised his eyebrows at Crockett. “She promised you a piece she ain’t gone through with?” 

He could tell by Crockett’s expression that the answer was “not in so many words,” but Crockett didn’t use as many words to answer Merle. Instead he dropped back in his chair, looked bitter, and lit a cigarette.

“She’s jerkin’ Daryl around,” Crockett offered.

“He might like a lil’ jerkin’,” Finn challenged.

Merle laughed and shook his head. 

“He’s happy with what the hell they got goin’ on,” Merle said. “Hell if I know whether or not it means anything, but...the House Mouse ain’t no tease. She ain’t so much as sniffed at another asshole around here and I sure as shit ain’t seen her throwin’ that pussy around. I’d say they gettin’ by alright. It suits both of ‘em.”

He sat at the table a moment, entertaining his brothers further, and then he stood up and dismissed himself. He took his beer and his cigarettes with him and he offered no explanation for taking his leave of all of them. He didn’t have to. He was the president of the Liberty chapter and offered explanation to nobody—except maybe the old lady he’d been answering to for two decades, but she wasn’t there to ask him where he was going.

Merle left the table and started off in search of Daryl. If Carol had given Daryl a piece, Merle would know about it. He doubted his brother would be able to hide it from anyone. She hadn’t.

The Mouse had a lot on her plate. She had a kid to take care of. She was trying to scratch out enough money to guarantee herself that she could afford some kind of life for that kid. She had an ex-husband who liked to beat on her that she was working on getting out of her life. She was new in a town that wasn’t always welcoming to strangers—or even people who lived there.

And, more than that, she was living with Andrea and sharing a bed with her child. Daryl was living with Merle. It made things a little complicated between the two of them. They were practically always chaperoned and nothing in their lives exactly screamed privacy and romance. Long ago Merle had gotten the shy out of Andrea—and he probably could’ve convinced her to fuck him on the pool table in the middle of the clubhouse with the knowledge that the brothers would only watch for a little while—but Carol wasn’t Andrea, and Daryl wasn’t Merle.

On top of everything else, some asshole had spooked Carol. Merle knew because he’d heard about it a half a dozen times from Daryl in half as many days. This person had her thinking that she was a tease. That she was doing something wrong. He had her looking over her shoulder constantly and questioning everything she did or thought of doing.

And Merle had a pretty good feeling which self-entitled prick had been the one to tree her.

Merle found his brother clinging to Carol out on the porch while she talked to Andrea, Alice, and Alice’s little friend. Merle walked up and touched his brother on the shoulder to get his attention. 

“Excuse me, ladies,” Merle said with a smile. “I gotta conference with my brother for a couple minutes.” 

The women excused them and Daryl came with Merle without question. Merle led him over to the side of the building and put some distance between them and anyone else. Daryl lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall. 

“What’s up?” Daryl asked.

“I know who it was that spooked your Mouse,” Merle said.

“Come again?” Daryl asked.

“I know who it was,” Merle said. “Was Crockett. He was inside fillin’ everyone’s ears up with stories ‘bout how that Mouse is just a tease out to milk your ass dry without givin’ you so much as a condolence piece.” 

“Crockett said that?” Daryl asked.

“In his own words,” Merle offered.

“Said he—said he told her somebody would take from her what she weren’t willin’ to give?” Daryl asked.

“No,” Merle said. “But he said she was a damned tease.”

Daryl nodded his head.

“Thanks for tellin’ me, brother,” Daryl said.

“You gonna start somethin’?” Merle asked. “’Cause if there’s about to be shit hittin’ the damn fan—least you can do is give me a heads up about what the hell I’ma have to clean up.”

Daryl smoked his cigarette and shook his head at his shoes before he brought his eyes back up to meet Merle’s.

“I ain’t startin’ shit,” Daryl said. “Not unless he gives me reason to. Carol said she ain’t wanted to say who it was ‘cause she didn’t want nothin’ gettin’ started. I gotta respect that. But—you and me know that he was blowin’ smoke out his ass. Ain’t no brother gonna take what ain’t offered to him. Not unless he’s so fuckin’ self-entitled that he can’t see straight. I can’t think of nobody that would even dream of doin’ some shit like that. Hell—he’s an asshole, but not even Crockett.”

“Then why the hell’d he say it?” Merle asked.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

“Pissed off,” Daryl said. “Frustrated. Maybe hopin’ to scare her into somethin’? Thinkin’ she’d run to him for protection or some shit? Fuck if I understand Crockett. But I ain’t gonna start shit. What I am gonna do is talk to her now that I know who the hell it was. And I’ma tell you right now that the asshole don’t get left alone with Carol.”

Merle nodded.

“I agree with that,” Merle said. “I don’t think he’d do shit, but it’s better to be safe. Besides—she prob’ly don’t wanna be alone around him.” 

Daryl lit another cigarette off the one he was smoking and Merle watched him. He could tell that Daryl was chewing on everything. He was digesting it. Daryl had always been slow at digesting what was going on around him. He liked to take it all in and consider it carefully before he responded. He really wasn’t given to jumping into things quickly—that was really more Merle’s area.

Merle stood there and waited in case Daryl had more that he wanted to say once he’d chewed on things a bit.

“He’s really in there tellin’ everybody she’s a tease?” Daryl asked. Merle nodded his head. Daryl frowned. “She don’t tease nobody. Only damn thing she offers anybody is a fresh beer or some fuckin’ onion rings—and she gets it for you if you want it.” 

“I know that,” Merle said.

“He said she ain’t—told ‘em she weren’t really interested in me?” Daryl asked.

“Said she was jerkin’ you around,” Merle said. His brother looked more crushed about that than anything. If Crockett made a wrong move in Carol’s direction, Daryl would gladly break his jaw and have him removed from the MC. He could handle that. It didn’t really worry him at all. But the idea that Carol was jerking him around and that she wasn’t really sincere was an idea that seemed to cut pretty deep for Daryl. Merle shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the case no more’n she’s bein’ a tease.” He raised his eyebrows at Daryl and offered him the best smile he could scrape together when he was face-to-face with his brother looking so crushed into the ground. “She was lookin’ pretty fond of you when I stepped outside a minute ago, brother. Ain’t looked like nobody that weren’t really interested. Lookin’ like...” Merle suddenly found himself at a loss for words, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Daryl was looking at him now like he was hanging onto his words like a lifeline. Merle sighed. He couldn’t come up with anything clever, but maybe it wasn’t clever that Daryl needed. “Lookin’ like a woman that’s happy to be hugged up on the man what she’s claimin’ as her own. That’s all the hell it looked like to me.” 

Daryl perked up as sure as if he’d been a dog that had just heard himself being offered a nice steak or something equally desirable. A hint of the smile he’d been wearing the whole night started to come back across his lips.

“She’s got a lot on her mind, Merle,” Daryl offered, clearly desperate to defend anything that someone might find fault with when it came to Carol.

“That she do, brother,” Merle said. “Head back on over there. Don’t keep her ass waitin’. And—would’ja tell Andrea to come over here? I gotta take a piss an’ then—then I was wantin’ to show her somethin’ in the storage barn. Just—tell her to come on.”

Daryl nodded his head and disappeared around the side of the building. There were only two points of truth to what he’d told Daryl just before he left: he had to take a piss, and he wanted to talk to Andrea.


	34. Chapter 34

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. Second for the day, so don’t forget to go and read Chapter 33 if you missed it! 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“I’d buy a piece off her if I thought she’d sell it,” Merle said. 

Andrea reached for the cigarette the moment that he lit it and he passed it to her before he lit another for himself. She’d taken what was left of his beer, too, but he let her have it.

“She’s not the kind, Merle,” Andrea said.

“I know it,” Merle said. “That’s the only reason that I ain’t offered. Fuck—I don’t know if he’s even any damn good, but what the boy don’t got in talent he’ll more’n make up for in enthusiasm.”

Andrea laughed to herself.

“I’ve never seen you so desperate for someone get laid that wasn’t you,” Andrea said. “I almost want to give you some pussy just to calm you down.” 

Merle chuckled.

“I ain’t gonna turn you down, darlin’, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Merle said. Andrea smiled at him and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek. Knowing her it was a promise for later. She wouldn’t have a taste for rolling around in the dirt right now, but that wouldn’t mean that she wouldn’t find somewhere for them to hide in a while. “You seen the way he looks when he thinks she don’t want him?” Merle asked.

“No,” Andrea said. “But—I’ve seen a low Dixon once or twice in my day, Merle. I suppose I can imagine what he looks like. Besides—I’ve seen what he looks like when he gets his feelings real good and hurt.” 

“Then you know how damn devastated he’s capable of lookin’,” Merle said.

“I don’t think she’s trying to hurt him, though. You don’t, do you, Merle?” 

They were sitting out beyond the storage barn and nobody would bother them back there. Even if they knew they were out there, most of the brothers knew better than to come after them. They’d figure they were fucking—even if they didn’t really fuck in public half as much as they’d led the group to believe that they did.

“I don’t think she is. Shit—he’d make her happy if it was in his power,” Merle said. “Hell—that boy’d give her any damn thing she wanted all wrapped up in silver paper just to say she was his. That kid, too.”

“She’s coming out of something bad, Merle,” Andrea said. “Real bad. Like—years of this asshole fucking with her mind and her body. It takes time to get over that shit. You know as well as I do that if someone fucks with your head—it’s likely that you don’t ever overcome it. Not entirely. But she’s coming around to Daryl. She’s about as warm to him as she can get.”

“Except they don’t get a moment’s peace,” Merle said. Andrea hummed at him in question and drained the last of the beer that she’d stolen from him. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “If they’re at your house, they got you an’ Sophia there. If they’re at our house, they’re prob’ly waitin’ on me to walk in. If they’re at the bar, there’s half a chance they got Teeter to babysit. You know how hard it’s been on us to find a minute’s peace these days...an’ they ain’t neither one of us against stealin’ a couple damn minutes in the backseat a’ your car off Willow Road during your lunchbreak.”

Andrea laughed to herself. 

“I don’t think Carol’s going to want her first time with Daryl to be a quickie in the backseat,” Andrea said, “but I could be wrong. I think it’s kinda sweet, Merle, that you’re so worried about him.”

Merle frowned and Andrea sat up. She moved around to look at him. There was a light out there that illuminated the front of the building for whenever they had to traipse back and forth for supplies. It lit up her face pretty well even around back of the building. She was smiling at him. 

“I mean that, Merle,” she pressed. “But—there’s nothing we can really do. Carol’s not going to let us keep Sophia while—while what, Merle? We send them off to a motel? Let them know that they have a certain amount of time at your place where we’ll guarantee nobody shows up? Nobody wants to feel like they’re being timed.”

“You know how he is,” Merle said. “You know that ain’t a single damn woman been good enough for him. And the one that he thought maybe was...”

“Turned out to be an asshole like most people,” Andrea said. “But Carol’s not going to do that. She’s not leading him somewhere just to tell him that he’s not good enough for more than a fuck, Merle. If that was all that she was after, she could’ve had it by now.”

“He’ll spin his damn wheels forever if he thinks that’s what she wants,” Merle said. 

“And she’ll spin hers forever because she’s scared,” Andrea said. “But they’ve gotta work it out.”

“You sayin’ you can’t come up with one damn way we can kinda—nudge ‘em along?” Merle asked. “I come up with buyin’ him a piece. Hell tradin’ for whatever the hell she wants. You can’t come up with nothin’?” 

Andrea sighed. She somewhat floundered around on the ground, clearly fidgeting as she tried desperately to come up with something. Finally, she looked Merle dead in the eyes and a smile turned up the corner of her mouth.

“I was talking to Jenny—Skeeter’s old lady?” Andrea said. Merle nodded to let her know that he knew both the people in question. “I think I might just have an idea, Merle.”

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“You need to sit down,” Andrea said. She’d meant it as a question, but she didn’t care that it had come out as a command. Carol did need to sit. “Breathe through your nose. I think. I think it’s breathe through your nose.” Carol sat on the bed and took a deep breath. She reached her hand up to brush her hair back from her face. “You wanna tell me what you’re freaking out about?” Andrea asked, sitting next to her.

“I thought you and I could room together,” Carol said.

“Is that what you want?” Andrea asked. “Because—I made that call. I made it without asking you, I know. I should’ve asked you. But I can tell Merle and it’s nothing but a thing. We just...room together. I thought, though, that you might want to room with Daryl.” She thought about it a moment. “But if you’re not ready...nobody wants to push. This wasn’t Daryl’s idea—I swear. I told Merle you’d room together.”

Carol almost looked like she wanted to cry and Andrea was instantly sorry for the plans that she’d made. The Greenes were going to treat Sophia to a fun-filled long weekend of all the dirty enjoyment one kid could stand on their farm. Most of the MC was going to a small bike rally near the coast where they’d be meeting up with a few other chapters.

Andrea had suggested that Carol and Daryl could room together for the few nights that they’d be gone.

And now Carol looked like she was struggling to intake oxygen.

“Can we talk about it?” Andrea asked. “Maybe I can—help you feel better.”

“He’s going to want to...sleep with me,” Carol said.

“He might,” Andrea admitted. “But—listen—I know that somebody told you that brothers might not accept no for an answer, but that’s not true, Carol. It’s especially not true of Daryl. If you tell him that you want him to stay on the other side of the room, he’ll sleep on the floor as far away as he can get. If you’re not ready, though, then I’ll just tell Merle that he and Daryl are in together.”

“I might never be ready,” Carol said. “Because—Andrea—I’m not very good at this.”

“At?” Andrea asked.

“At sex,” Carol said. “At relationships. At any of it.”

Andrea laughed to herself. She hadn’t meant to laugh, but it had come trickling out of her before she could stop it.

“You’re worried about being bad at sex?” Andrea asked. Carol frowned at her. She’d backed away from the possibility of crying, but it was renewed now. Andrea shook her head at her. “Don’t cry, Carol. Sex was never supposed to be something to cry about. Unless—I mean it’s so good that you just can’t help it.” Carol clearly didn’t find her amusing and Andrea quickly offered an apology. “I’m not trying to make light of your suffering, but just answer me this—do you want to have sex with Daryl?” Carol stared at her. Every muscle in her face seemed set against holding back something. “Let me rephrase that, OK? Is your fear—is that the only reason that you don’t want to have sex with Daryl?” 

Carol covered her face with her hands.

“You think it’s ridiculous,” Carol said. “You think—you have no idea how really terrible I am at this. And—Andrea? I really—really—like Daryl.” 

Andrea bit the inside of her mouth not to laugh because she could feel that this wasn’t a laughing matter. She didn’t want to laugh—and Carol wouldn’t understand why she was laughing. 

“Do you think he’s not going to like you if you’re not very good at sex?” Andrea asked.

“He’s not,” Carol insisted, still hiding behind her fingers for a moment for the security that they gave her. “Andrea—Ed told me...”

“Stop!” Andrea said quickly, cutting Carol off. “Stop. Stop. Stop. Listen—the last thing you ever need to listen to is anything that Ed ever told you. Carol—I’m sure that you’re not bad at sex. You know what? It was probably Ed that was bad at sex and he was looking for someone to unload his insecurities on. Because a man that’s good at it—really good at it? He’ll make you good at it because you won’t be able to help yourself.”

Carol peeked out at Andrea from behind her fingers. Her face ran red with her embarrassment over the whole situation. Andrea offered her a smile to try to coax her further out. She reached her hands up and gently caught Carol around the wrists. 

“I’d hate to tell a secret that I’m not supposed to tell,” Andrea said, “but if it’s going to make you feel better, then I’m going to take my chance. Carol, I don’t know how much Daryl has told you about his past, but he’s not exactly—he hasn’t spent a lot of time entertaining women. He’s never been that kind. I mean there have been some women...here and there...but that’s not all my story to tell. My point is—Daryl is not overly experienced.”

Carol relaxed a little. She dropped her hands and Andrea slid her own hands down to hold Carol’s instead of gripping her wrists.

“Is that your way of saying he won’t know if I’m bad?” Carol asked.

“It’s my way of saying he might be pretty bad,” Andrea said. “Even though I know that doesn’t inspire much confidence.”

Carol laughed. For the first time since she’d started fretting about packing the small bag that Andrea gave her to pack, she laughed. 

“It doesn’t scare me,” Carol said. “Or worry me. Not really.” 

“Why not?” Andrea asked, squeezing Carol’s hands in her own.

Carol shrugged her shoulders. 

“Because it doesn’t matter that much to me,” Carol said. She smiled to herself. “Because it’s Daryl and—I think...I’d just be happy if he had a good time. It wouldn’t matter that much to me one way or another if I did. You know?” 

Andrea nodded her head. 

“I do know,” Andrea said. “And that’s why I’m saying that you don’t have anything to worry about. Honey—Daryl likes you. I don’t know if you haven’t figured that our or...but every bit as much as you think you like him, he likes you. He’s not going to care if you’re the worst at sex that any woman ever has been. He’s going to be way too worried about you having a good time to even think about you being bad at sex. In fact, he’s going to be so overwhelmed with the fact that you’re willing to have sex with him that he might not even notice one way or another.”

“If I’m terrible—really terrible—then it becomes awkward, Andrea,” Carol said. “Then he’s trying to figure out how to get away from me. We’re in a lot of the same places now. It won’t be easy to put distance between us. I could lose my job...”

Andrea laughed.

“Boy, you are letting yourself run away with things, aren’t you?” Andrea said. “No wonder you haven’t been ready. Shit, Carol—if it came with this much thinking, I think I wouldn’t ever have sex either. Listen—I know Daryl. And I mean I really know him. I’ve known him for pretty much as long as I can remember. He’s just not that complicated. I don’t mean to say he’s shallow or—I don’t mean anything bad, but he’s not that complicated. He likes you. He’s going to be concerned about impressing you. But there’s like—there’s like a less than one percent chance that anything you could do in bed...short of maybe going crazy and biting his dick off or something and, really, he might forgive you for that if you gave him a good explanation for what happened...but—Carol? He’s not going to stop liking you because of the first time that you have sex. He’s just not, honey. You’ve got—hell, you’ve got my word.” 

Carol sucked in a breath and nodded her head. She swiped at her eyes where there was some dampness on her lashes. 

“Should I wear something special?” Carol asked. “I don’t have anything to wear. Nothing special. And I’ve never been to a rally.”

Andrea laughed.

“See—these are all problems that I can handle,” Andrea said. “I bet we can find something you like.” 

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AN: And next, we see how Merle is preparing Daryl for the trip. 

I just wanted to let you know that thought I’m spending my little free time writing instead of answering reviews, I do very much appreciate each and every review that you leave. You keep spurring me on to write more. I reread them whenever I’m needing that push! Thank you!


	35. Chapter 35

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I’m trying to get out what I can before work stops me dead in my tracks (again) tomorrow. So make sure you check out the last chapters to make sure you didn’t miss anything! 

I hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to let me know what you think! 

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“What the actual fuck, Merle?” Daryl called. 

Merle laughed to himself and turned the page in the magazine that he was flipping through. He didn’t read most of the articles, but he liked some of them. He liked the pictures of the bikes, too, even if he couldn’t ever imagine turning his in for something new.

He already knew what his little brother was coming to talk to him about. He was right, too. The moment that he glanced up at Daryl as Daryl emerged from the hallway, Merle’s suspicions were confirmed.

“The hell is this?” Daryl asked, shaking his fists at Merle. Clutched in each of his fists were several long and unraveled rolls of condoms. “Found this in my fuckin’ bag. Took up half of where I was gonna put my clothes.”

“Some shit’s more important than clothes, boy,” Merle offered. 

“What the hell is this?” Daryl asked.

“You can thank me an’ Andrea later,” Merle said. “You an’ that Mouse is roomin’ together. Ain’t no brother of mine goin’ in unprepared.”

Daryl blanched.

“We’re roomin’ together?” Daryl asked.

Merle grinned and nodded his head. 

“Yep,” he said.

“She know that?” 

“Yep,” Merle said. “You welcome, brother.”

“She ain’t ready...” Daryl said.

“Lookin’ like she is,” Merle responded. “And now you is too, ‘cause your brother was thinkin’ about you.” 

Daryl looked at the condoms in his fist like he couldn’t recall having seen them before. 

“There’s like two hundred condoms in my bag, Merle,” Daryl said.

“Wanted you to be prepared,” Merle said. “Besides—I figure it mighta been a while. Maybe you don’t hardly get the first couple on ‘fore you’re...” Merle shrugged his shoulders and sucked his teeth. “You don’t wanna embarrass yourself, brother. Maybe you jerk off a couple damn times ‘fore we go. Just a lil’ bit of advice.”

“You got two hundred condoms in your bag, Merle?” Daryl asked. “For a three night stay?” 

“Not really,” Merle said. “But—uh—that’s a whole different conversation, Daryl. What me an’ Andrea do don’t concern you right now. Don’t have shit to do with you an’ this weekend. Only thing I wanna talk about right now is you an’ ya lil’ Mouse. Now—you got both helmets.”

“Gotta get the other outta the shed,” Daryl said. 

“Clean it up,” Merle said. “You don’t give her some dust covered shit crawlin’ with spiders. You got some other shit I put in your bag. I know you ain’t used to takin’ nobody with you to a rally. Maybe you don’t think of shit. I do. Got you some lube in there, brother. A whole bottle. Andrea picked it out. Says it’s the good kind. Could get a bus through a kitchen window without scratchin’ the paint. Use it. She’s gonna like you for it.” 

“Fuck, Merle!” Daryl spat.

Merle laughed to himself when his brother’s face ran bright red. He was possibly at the point where he wanted to run away, but he seemed anchored to that one spot in the floor. Merle laughed to himself.

“You sure gonna, boy,” Merle mused. “Got somethin’ nice in there for her, too. Andrea’s idea. Wrapped up in tissue paper.”

“I’m scared to ask what the hell it is,” Daryl said.

Merle chuckled.

“It’s a lil’ silver bracelet,” Merle said. “Andrea picked it up. It’s got—it’s got some engravin’ on it. You look at it. Judge if you think it’s somethin’ you wanna give her or not. Andrea seems to think it’d be just about the best damned thing you could do, but you the one gotta decide if it’s somethin’ you wantin’ to give her or not.”

Daryl stood there staring at him, the condoms still clutched in his fists. 

He didn’t have to say it. Merle could see the concern written all over his features. 

Merle loved nothing more than giving his little brother hell. He’d been giving him hell since he’d been wet behind the ears and still drawing on their mama’s teat.

But Merle also knew when his brother didn’t need that. Daryl was the sweet one and, as such, sometimes he just needed a little something different from his big brother.

“You gon’ do fine, boy,” Merle said. “Whatever you want to happen—it’s gonna happen. Whatever the hell you want to come outta this weekend? You gonna know how to make it happen. It’s gonna come outta this weekend. You might gotta give it time—ya know. To develop. But it’ll happen. Go on. Get’cha bag packed an’ get that helmet cleaned up. Nellie’s gonna be around about nine to pick up the luggage.”

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Daryl sat on the bed and turned the bracelet over in his hand. Andrea had picked it out. He was glad she did because he wouldn’t have thought of something like that. Deep down he knew that women liked things like that—trinkets and sentimental items—but he never would have thought about the rally being a reason to give Carol something.

The bracelet was a silver chain and, hanging from the silver chain, there were two small charms. The first was a bike—rudimentary and just detailed enough to make it clear what it was meant to be—and the second was a small silver heart. On the heart, engraved, were the dates for the weekend and the lettering “C and D” in fancy script.

Merle was leaving it up to Daryl to decide if he wanted to give Carol the bracelet based on how the weekend went. If it went badly, clearly he’d want to pocket the piece of jewelry. Maybe even see if he could have the heart melted down into something else or the engraving erased. But if it went well, he’d be offering her the bracelet as a souvenir of the weekend. It would be the first weekend they spent together at something like this. 

If it went the way that he hoped it might go, it would be the first weekend that they spent together. It could be the weekend when she said she wanted to be his old lady.

He’d only ever thought one time that he might find somebody to be his old lady. 

She’d wanted a life. She’d wanted to make a home with someone. She’d wanted three or four kids and a nice little house that she would keep all fixed up for her husband. She wanted a man who would come home to her every night, tired from busting his ass making a living, to spend the evening with her and make sure she had some sweet dreams when she fell asleep at night.

She’d wanted every damn thing that Daryl was pretty sure he wanted and he’d felt like he couldn’t hardly get close enough to her fast enough. He was planning on building her a house out there on the land that he and Merle shared. He was going to build it just like she wanted it. He knew—even if he didn’t know much about women—that if she really loved the house, then there was no limit to how comfortable a home she’d make for him out of it.

Daryl knew now that he’d let himself get too carried away by some empty promises. She’d been the kind that wanted a nice house, alright. She’d wanted some kids and a good life. The only thing she’d forgotten to mention—and Daryl had forgotten to ask about it explicitly—was that she didn’t want all of that with the likes of Daryl.

She’d fucked him a few times before she’d let him know that fucking was really all it was. He was a nice enough guy and all—and he was real exciting when she thought about pissing off her parents—but she didn’t want to piss them off that bad and he wasn’t really the kind of man that a woman settled down with.

He wasn’t the kind of man that got the kind of life that he wanted.

And she wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to be an old lady. 

The life he wanted just wasn’t compatible with the life that he had. Even those within the club that he thought were living that life, she pointed out to him, weren’t really living it—not in the best way. People like Daryl didn’t live nice little lives with their families. 

And maybe she was right.

Daryl held the bracelet in his hand and looked at it. Carol knew about the club. She knew about his place in the club and his dedication to the club. She was new to it, though, and she didn’t know how much bullshit came along with being an old lady sometimes. She thought it was something she might want, but Daryl knew she might change her mind. She could always change her mind.

What she didn’t know about Daryl, though, was how much he wanted out of life. She didn’t know the kind of life he dreamed of having. She didn’t know that he wanted so much from an old lady—so much that most people looking to be old ladies really didn’t want to offer. She didn’t know that he’d been so dedicated to finding that particular kind of woman that he’d shied away from any woman that he knew absolutely wasn’t cut out for that role and, as a result, he’d shied away from most of the women who had crossed his path.

Carol didn’t know that he probably wasn’t too good at fucking, either. 

She probably had no idea what she was getting into at all.

Daryl wrapped the bracelet up in the tissue paper again and shoved it down in his bag. Wren’s old lady, Nellie, would follow behind the club in her van and she’d carry all their shit. She’d be there within a half hour to pick up Daryl’s bag. 

He’d bring the bracelet with him, but he’d let Carol tell him if it was something she was interested in having or not.

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“Cheer up, brother,” Merle said. “This oughta be the damn jolliest day of your life. You got’cha a sweet piece gonna be ridin’ on your bike an’ hangin’ off your arm all weekend.” He laughed to himself. “Play your cards right, she’s gonna be ridin’ your dick the whole weekend too. Yet you lookin’ like I fuckin’ pissed in the orange juice.”

Daryl looked at the orange juice in his glass like he maybe doubted whether or not Merle had pissed in it. Then he frowned at his eggs.

“Who the fuck am I kiddin’, Merle?” Daryl asked. “She ain’t no old lady.”

“She’s ever’ bit an’ ole lady if you got a mind to make her one,” Merle said. “Why—she’s got the damn spunk to be one. You see how she went in that courthouse, boy. Went in there to face who she seen as the devil himself, but she done it with a fuckin’ smile on her face. She’ll slap a hand off her ass in a heartbeat—don’t even matter if it’s mine. And that woman walked I don’t know many fuckin’ miles in the piss pourin’ rain with nothin’ to her damn name but her kid, an’ she strolled right in the fuckin’ Chambers like she owned the place when she hadn’t never been there before.” Merle nodded his head. “She’s got ole lady written all over her, brother. It’s just up to you to make it happen if you got a mind for it to be so.”

Daryl frowned at Merle until he started to resemble a fish. All that was left was for him to flap his bottom lip forward and gasp for air before he flopped around on the floor. 

Merle frowned in response. 

“This about Livvy?” Merle asked. Daryl didn’t have to respond to him for Merle to have his answer. The bitch had broken his brother’s heart and Daryl had simply never gotten over it. She’d whispered sweet nothings in Daryl’s ear and she’d promised him everything he’d ever dreamed of hearing. Merle had seen Livvy coming a mile away, but Daryl couldn’t be convinced. He’d fallen head over heels for her lies and she’d crushed him like he wasn’t anything.

She wanted to fuck around with a biker. She wanted a story to tell her kids and her grandkids, maybe—kids and grandkids she had with some man working nine-to-five in what she might consider a respectable job. She wanted something to share with her girlfriends, perhaps, about that one time she hung around with a MC. She wanted to hang on the back of a bike and she wanted to pretend she belonged there. But she also wanted to play it safe. She was scared of the very same bikers that she fetishized. She wanted one that wouldn’t scare her so badly. She wanted one that was sweet and maybe not as calloused over as some of the others. She’d found it in Daryl.

And then she’d left him hardened in a way that Merle hated to see.

Because Daryl’s dreams were simple, and Merle was sure that somewhere there was an old lady that was looking for just what he was looking for—and they’d want to crack open that hard shell he’d made for himself to tend to the softer parts of him that he was hiding.

Merle wanted that for his brother because he knew. Merle knew that the touch of good woman—the right woman—it was worth more than anything else that the whole rotten world had to offer. It couldn’t undo the past, but it could take the sting out.

Daryl had barely looked at women since Livvy had ground his feelings into the ground, though. He did a pretty good job of pretending that he just wasn’t interested or he found himself somehow too cool to end up getting snared by a woman, but Merle knew that was only an act. It was an attempt to protect himself and nothing more. 

But Merle wanted the best for his little brother, like maybe every big brother did, and he knew that part of Daryl having his “best” was finding a good woman to keep him company.

“Your Mouse ain’t Livvy, Daryl,” Merle said. “An’ I’ma tell you right now that it ain’t gonna be fair if you go in there holdin’ against her somethin’ that she ain’t done. Same as it wouldn’t be fair to you if she was sore at you for beatin’ her black an’ blue when it was her asshole husband that done that.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her,” Daryl said.

“And she’s gotta take your ass on faith,” Merle said. “Maybe you oughta take her on faith too, Daryl.”

Daryl swallowed. He’d barely touched his eggs and he didn’t look like he had a desire to finish them before it was time to leave and meet the others at the Chambers to start out.

“What if I’m settin’ myself up, Merle?” Daryl asked.

Merle laughed to himself. He nodded his head.

“I get it,” he said. “It’s a big damn risk to take. But—I think the important question here, brother, is what if you ain’t?”


	36. Chapter 36

AN: Here we are, another chapter here with hopefully more to come soon. This is the second for the day, so if you’re behind, you’ll want to make sure you didn’t miss anything. 

Thank you all so much for the support. I really can’t tell you how much it means to me! 

I hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to let me know what you think! 

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Carol had never been on a ride like this before and she’d started the ride quite nervous. She’d leaned her head against Daryl’s back and she’d held on for dear life when they’d started. The feeling of being on the bike was different when they were riding through Liberty. The interstate was a whole different beast.

In a large group, they’d started down the interstate. It hadn’t taken long before they’d met up with other Judges from other places—all of them wearing the same identifying scales on their backs, but each of their cuts a little bit different. The thought of riding a bike among so many other bikes was a little bit terrifying to Carol, but they all seemed to handle it like it was a finely choreographed dance. They rode staggered, in a long line, and Daryl was near the front of it.

The sight of the trees passing by them quickly was a little dizzying. It was worse when Carol glanced down at the road and realized how fast the asphalt was rolling away beneath them. The wind whipped around her and the helmet only somewhat muffled the thunderous sound of so many bikes ripping down the interstate at once. 

Carol had closed her eyes, for a while, to the overwhelming sensations and she’d clung to Daryl. She had to trust him. This entire thing was about trust. The only thing that was keeping her alive at that moment—and she knew it—was Daryl. She had to trust him to keep her alive.

And she did.

As the miles folded out beneath them and her body started to feel numb from the vibrations of the bike, Carol started to relax. She still held to Daryl, not brave enough to take her hands off of him like some of the other women around her did, but she didn’t feel like she needed to hold on quite so tight. She felt like she could sit up straight. She could look around her, and she could take in the Georgia countryside as it unfolded.

Most of the cars that drove in the lane next to them to pass the herd of bikers kept their distance. A few stared out their windows, but nobody really bothered them. They rode for what felt like hours. Ahead of them, every now and again, another wave of bikers would come off an exit and seamlessly seem to flow into the stream. They wore different jackets—different cuts. They were from another club. 

They were from many other clubs.

But as they rode, that didn’t seem to matter. They simply made their way, together, toward the rally—all of them seeming to magically know where they were going. 

When they reached the place where they were going—a relatively small town just away from the hustle and bustle of the bigger coastal areas—they had to slow down given the dense population of bikes. Carol clung to Daryl again, this time because she didn’t trust the bikers around them. Some seemed keen to show off. Some seemed like they weren’t aware that this could be dangerous. Some seemed determined to catch the attention of the cops who were out in abundance.

Carol clung tightly to Daryl when he started to walk the bike because there was no way he could move quickly enough to keep them upright otherwise. 

When they stopped for a moment, their pause necessitated by the dense traffic, Daryl pulled his helmet off. He was sweating. Even with the face shield open, the helmet was stifling. Carol understood. Her own breath had fogged her face shield and she’d been too afraid to move a hand to open it. She opened it now.

“Just hang tight,” Daryl called back over his shoulder. “Relax. It’s OK. I got’cha. Just keep your feet up ‘til I tell you to put ‘em down and relax. We headin’ to the motel first. Got our reservations. Gonna unload an’ get cleaned up. Go get somethin’ to eat.”

He was yelling at her because there was no other way to communicate with the noise. Carol yelled back her understanding and rested her head against his back once more. Daryl returned his helmet to its proper location and eased them through the traffic. Carol sat up when she felt a little more confident again, and she could see Merle and Andrea not far from them, easing their way through the crowd.

Andrea looked like she was comfortable. She looked like she was at home. She’d probably never been nervous like Carol felt. 

Carol searched out other bikes she knew. There was Glenn, one of their young prospects, riding Teeter’s bike with Teeter in the sidecar. With nobody to watch the old man over the weekend and with the concern that Teeter might burn his own house down around him, they’d decided to bring him along. He was the Prospect’s responsibility. 

Carol found Alice easily enough. She was one of the few people there on a trike and she cleared her own path—practically shoving other bikes out of the way—as she plowed her way through the crowd. The woman on the back of her bike—Sadie—held to Alice, but she didn’t look particularly bothered. Her helmet lacked a face shield and Carol could see her face clearly. She looked confused and overwhelmed, perhaps, but not nervous.

They passed a number of hotels and motels of varying description. Bikes filled the parking lots of all of them. Then, finally, Carol saw those ahead of them—all wearing the scales of the Judges—pulling into the parking lot of a motel. They had arrived.

One by one, the rumble of the engines died and people got off the bikes and stretched their legs. Daryl took Carol’s helmet and rested it on the seat of the bike with his. He burrowed around his saddle bag and then closed it, not coming out with anything other than a pack of cigarettes that he tucked into his pocket. 

“You aren’t scared somebody’s going to steal something?” Carol asked.

“They ain’t gonna steal nothin’,” Daryl assured her. “Out here—if you left it on the bike, they wouldn’t take your wallet. It’s like an unspoken rule. You just don’t take shit. Not at these rallies. Come on—let’s get our shit.”

The van that Nellie drove was brown and tan. It was old and quite spacious inside. Seven of them could have ridden comfortably in the van if they’d wanted to. Nobody could fit in there right now, though. She’d packed it full of their stuff and she had every door of it open as they all dove in and dragged out the bags that they’d packed. 

Carol pointed her bag out to Daryl at his request and he took both her bag and his, refusing to let her help at all with carrying her stuff. As soon as he had the bags, he started toward the building and Carol followed after him. He directed her to get the key and she walked toward Andrea who—while everyone was stretching and getting their stuff—had gone inside to get keys for all of them. 

“Here you go,” Andrea said, handing a key over to Carol. She winked at her and offered her a smile. “We’re changing clothes and out the door. Thirty minute turn around. But don’t worry—it’ll be an early night tonight. In case you’re tired, I mean.”

Carol knew that Andrea wasn’t worried about whether or not she was fatigued, but she was thankful that the woman didn’t say anything else about the situation that they’d discussed in private. Carol held her arm up, waved the key at Daryl, and worked her way through the crowd to head toward their room. 

It didn’t take her long to find the right door and Carol unlocked it. She was immediately greeted with the smell of stale cigarette smoke and old carpet that seemed to be the universal scent of orange-roofed motels everywhere. Still, the room appeared to be clean and it was comfortable enough. 

Daryl followed her inside and immediately put the bags down.

“They got one bed,” Daryl said. 

“Maybe the rooms were cheaper,” Carol said.

“I bet they were,” Daryl said. Carol didn’t think he sounded sincere. He cleared his throat and looked at her like he was worried. “You OK with that—the one bed, I mean? Because if you ain’t—I could go an’ ask ‘em to switch us out. It’s possible that they full up, but they might be someone willin’ to switch with us.” 

Carol offered him a smile, and she hoped it covered up her own worry. 

“I think it’ll be fine, Daryl,” Carol said. “But thank you for asking.”

Daryl chewed at his thumb and nodded his head. 

“We’ve got half an hour,” Carol said. 

“Merle said it was half an hour A.I.S time,” Daryl said.

“A.I.S?” Carol asked.

“Ass In Seat,” Daryl clarified. “We got reservations for food an’ he don’t wanna lose ‘em ‘cause it can be kinda rough around here to get reservations when it’s packed like this. You hungry, aren’t you?” 

Carol nodded her head. 

“You alright—I mean after the ride? It weren’t too much for you?” Daryl asked.

Carol smiled. Her heart did a little dance in her chest. Andrea hadn’t lied. He was concerned about her. He wanted to be sure that she was happy and comfortable—that was sure to translate to other areas of whatever this relationship might become. 

“I’m fine,” Carol assured him. “I was a little nervous at first. But—it’s not that bad. And you’re good at what you do.” His cheeks blushed red. “What do we do here?” 

Daryl cleared his throat. 

“Tonight not too much,” Daryl said. “We’re gonna get somethin’ to eat. We’re gonna scope the place out. Maybe check out a lil’ bit of the night life. Then we’ll come on back here to get ready for tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll get breakfast and then there’s a—well, it’s kinda like a parade. Downtown. We’ll all gather there. Ride through. Then there’s vendors an’ shit. Lunch. Whatever the hell you wanna do in the afternoon ‘fore supper.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it ain’t as excitin’ as you were hopin’ it might be.”

“It sounds just right to me,” Carol said. 

“You wanna—freshen up or change clothes or whatever ‘fore we go? I gotta take a piss, but...there ain’t much more I gotta do.” 

Carol’s heart picked up a beat. This wasn’t the time for any of the stuff that she’d discussed with Andrea. In case she didn’t know it, Andrea had made that clear to her. This was time to change her clothes, brush her hair, and put on a little lip gloss or something. She nodded her head at Daryl and went for her bag.

“You go ahead first,” she said. “I just want to find—my clothes. I need to change.”

“Fine,” Daryl said. “I won’t be but a minute and the bathroom’s yours.”

Carol found what she was looking for while Daryl used the bathroom. She’d raided Andrea’s closet and the blonde had given her first pick of everything she had. Carol had kept it pretty simple. She pulled out her favorite pair of jeans that she’d bought for work and the light blue shirt that she’d gotten from Andrea. It was off the shoulder and it felt delicate. The leather jacket that Andrea had given her to wear, though, gave her the kind of edge that she figured she ought to have if she was going to spend the weekend in the company of the Judges and their old ladies.

Daryl waited for her while she changed. Each step she took toward being ready made her heart thunder around even more wildly in her chest until Carol wondered if she’d be able to even survive the night with Daryl. 

What would he think? Would he even be interested? Would he turn her down? Worse than turning her down—would he practically laugh her out of the bed afterward? 

Carol coated her eyelashes in mascara a few times and swiped her lips with the softly colored gloss that Andrea had given her. She shoved the gloss in the tight pocket of her jeans and ran her fingers through her hair. For a moment, she stopped and looked at her hair. Her hair had always been something of a sore spot for Carol.

It was graying. Her mother had gone prematurely gray. Her father, too. It was still auburn, but it wouldn’t be for long. 

It made her look old. She was only in her thirties, but it made her look far older than that. Ed had always said so, but he’d refused to let her dye it because that was vanity and a sure sign that she was trying to get the attention of another man. 

It was cropped short, but it was growing. It was starting to go in every which direction since it curled wildly as it gained length. Ed had forced her to keep her hair cut short, too, because he thought it would keep her from drawing attention to herself. 

He hated the way that she looked—plain and homely and nothing worth mentioning—but he wanted her to be that way, too. 

Carol frowned at herself.

Now she was trying to get the attention of another man and she hadn’t even stopped to think about what he might like. Most of the women she’d seen today had dyed hair. They had long hair. They looked a great deal different than Carol did. Suddenly it wasn’t her heart that was troubling her as much as it was her stomach that was drawing her attention. It twisted and warned her that she was probably making a mistake—a lot of them. 

She looked ridiculous in Andrea’s shirt and jacket. Her hair was a mess and Daryl would probably laugh at her attempts to make herself look better with cheap mascara and borrowed lip gloss.

Maybe he’d asked about the double bed because he wasn’t looking forward to sharing it with her. 

Carol stayed in the bathroom for a while and worried over what she should do and how she should handle the situation. She had been feeling fine earlier. She’d been nervous, but she’d been filled with something else. Maybe it was even hope that had filled her before. Suddenly, though, she found herself tumbling down a long, deep, rabbit hole and she wasn’t sure how she was expected to get back out. She was suddenly feeling very claustrophobic and a little trapped, but she had no way of getting in touch with anyone to rescue her from the bathroom and from herself. She had left her cell phone in the room.

She jumped when there was a knocking at the door.

“You OK in there?” Daryl asked. 

“Fine,” Carol squeaked out.

“You sick or—you sick an’ you need somethin’ or...” Daryl stammered. 

“I’m not sick,” Carol called back.

“You got some kinda problem?” Daryl asked.

Carol frowned at her own reflection. She cursed to herself as she realized that she was running her own mascara and soon she’d look like a raccoon to top off everything else. She dabbed at her eyes with a bunch of toilet paper that she wound off the roll.

“If you don’t talk to me, Carol, and you don’t come out...I’ma have to do something,” Daryl said. “You want me to go find Andrea? I don’t know what room they in but—you OK?” 

Carol yanked open the door and Daryl looked at her. His face said he was on the verge of panic. 

Oddly enough, it soothed Carol a little.

“I need to talk to you, Daryl,” Carol said. “But—we’ve got reservations.”

Daryl nodded his head. 

“You OK?” Daryl asked. “I done—did I do somethin’ wrong?” 

Carol shook her head. She swallowed against the ache in her throat.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Carol said. “I just—need to talk to you.”

Daryl nodded again.

“Lemme call Merle,” Daryl said. 

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Carol said.

“If anything, they go on without us an’ we show up late,” Daryl said. “It ain’t no trouble. Ain’t nothin’ but a thing. You stay here. Just—do whatever you was doin’ if that’s what’cha...what’cha need. I’ma call Merle.”


	37. Chapter 37

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. This is maybe three for the day? 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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She looked like she was choking to death on sadness and fear. The sight of it constricted Daryl’s air. 

He never liked when people “needed” to talk to him. In his experience, that had very seldom been something good. 

But he could tell that she really did need to talk to him. Something had happened in that bathroom, and even though he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what it was, she had to get it off her chest before it suffocated her.

Merle hadn’t argued with Daryl in the slightest when he’d told him to take the others and go ahead. He and Carol had to talk and there was no going to dinner first—there was no leaving the room, even. They’d catch up. Thankfully, too, his brother had heard enough in his voice to know that this wasn’t some kind of laughing matter. He’d simply wished Daryl good luck and he’d given him quick and easy directions to find the place before he’d hung up and let Daryl return to Carol.

Daryl led Carol out of the bathroom and let her choose where she wanted to sit. When she took a seat at the small table, Daryl sat across from her and offered up his cigarettes and lighter. She helped herself immediately and Daryl noticed that her hands were trembling. 

“Shoot,” he said. “Go. Say whatever you wanna say. I’m all ears.”

Carol laughed to herself, but Daryl could tell she didn’t mean it. He got up and came back with a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. She thanked him and twisted off a wad of it to blow her nose.

“What if I don’t even know where to begin?” Carol asked.

“Start wherever you think is good,” Daryl said. “Or start just now an’ work your way backwards. I don’t care how you get there.”

“I do know where to begin,” Carol mused.

“Then start there,” Daryl offered.

“I met a man named Ed Peletier when I was in high school,” Carol said. “I mean—I’d known him my whole life, I guess, but not really. I really got to know him the year that he asked me to date him.” She looked at Daryl with the charcoal colored streaks running down her cheeks. “That was around the time it all started to go wrong.”

Daryl laughed to himself and quickly held his hand up.

“I swear I ain’t laughin’ at you,” he said. “Laughin’ ‘cause—hell—don’t we all got them moments?” 

Carol frowned at him. She’d stopped actively sobbing like she had been in the doorway of the bathroom, so he was hoping to steer her away from going right back to that. 

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asked. “I mean—I know about Ed, but he ain’t here.”

“That’s the problem,” Carol said with a sigh. “Sometimes it feels like—he’s always here.” 

Daryl swallowed and sucked in a breath. 

“You mean...”

“In my head,” Carol said. “He’s always here. I can hear him telling me things he used to say all the time. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” 

“I hear shit,” Daryl said. “In my head. Like—I ain’t never gonna amount to much. Ain’t good for shit. That kinda thing.”

“You’re a good guy,” Carol said. “She swiped at her face with some clean toilet paper that she removed from the roll. “You’re probably way too good a guy to end up having to even spend your weekend with a mess like me. This place is crawling with women who—women who love MCs. Women who have spent their lives with them. You could find someone who...someone you really liked.”

Daryl stared at her. She looked like she was just about as low as a body could get. He had a good feeling that if he left her alone, she might very well crawl under the bed and simply stay there until it was time to leave.

And he couldn’t understand what the hell had happened in that bathroom because she’d gone in there with a smile on her face and she’d come out looking like she might cry herself out.

“Carol—I don’t know what happened, but I wish to hell you’d just tell me what’s wrong,” Daryl said. “I’m here with you. You was the only person I wanted to come with. Hell—do you know how damn many of these rallies I been to in my life? And I ain’t once found nobody I liked.” 

“You want to be here with me?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“It’s where the hell I am, ain’t it?” Daryl asked. 

“Look at me...” Carol said.

“I am,” Daryl said. “Only reason I ain’t been starin’ at’cha all day is ‘cause I had to keep my eyes on the road to keep us both alive. But—even ridin’, I was imagining what you looked like on the back of my bike. All hugged up on me like I could feel you was.” 

“My hair is awful,” Carol said.

“What’s wrong with it?” Daryl asked. 

“Look at it,” Carol said. 

“You wanna—do somethin’ to it? We got all the time you want...” Daryl offered. “I told ‘em we’d be late.”

“I can’t make it grow,” Carol said. “And—I don’t have anything to dye it.” 

Daryl laughed nervously. 

“I don’t understand what’s wrong, Carol,” Daryl said. “Shit—I just don’t. I’m stupid, OK? Your hair looks fine to me. Maybe a lil’ bit—maybe—was it the helmet that bothered you? Because everybody down here gets used to the whole helmet thing. That is if you goin’ for safety an’ don’t wanna crack your head open. And—I’d much rather you wear the helmet.” 

“It’s short,” Carol said. 

“I like it,” Daryl offered.

“And gray,” Carol said. 

Daryl shrugged.

“Pretty,” he said. “Glitters in the sun.”

“It’s not supposed to glitter,” Carol said. 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Well I know that shit isn’t true, Carol, because it if it wasn’t supposed to do it then it wouldn’t do it,” Daryl said. He sighed and shook his head. “Is that what all this is about?” Daryl asked. “You don’t like your hair?” 

“I’m plain and...there’s really nothing pretty about me,” Carol said. 

“You look a bit like an extra for KISS with all that make up smeared on your face,” Daryl offered. “But once you wash it off, you look pretty to me.” 

“You were upset about the double bed,” Carol said. “Was it because—you don’t want to share a bed with me?” 

“Thought you might not want to share one with me,” Daryl countered. 

His stomach had been in knots since Merle told him that he and Carol were going to room together. He was terrified that she might very well be using him. She might sleep with him and simply tell him, after the whole thing was over, that she didn’t appreciate him as anything more than a weekend fuck.

There was something that Daryl almost found magnetic about Carol. He wanted to be near her for just a moment more—always a moment more—ever since the first time she’d spoken to him. She was sweet and soft. She was pretty and funny. Daryl liked the look she got in her eyes when she gave him hell about something. She had a kid and she wanted a life for that kid. Family was important to her, and she’d do whatever the hell she had to in order to make sure that her family was taken care of. 

Immediately, Daryl had felt drawn to her, and that terrified him. The last time he’d thought there was somebody who could actually be everything he wanted her to be, she’d fallen just short of cutting his beating heart out of his chest and eating it in front of him.

His past experiences—so many of them—haunted him like Carol’s past seemed to haunt her. 

But right now it was her demons that Daryl was interested in keeping at bay. 

Daryl had been terrified to share a room with Carol, but suddenly he didn’t feel as terrified. Suddenly he simply felt desperate for her to feel better—whatever that might take.

“You wanted to share it with me?” Daryl asked.

“You don’t have to say things just...anything just...just because,” Carol said. She shook her head at him and mopped some more at her face. Soon she’d wash all the offending makeup off. 

“Just because what?” Daryl asked. “You think I’m lyin’ to you about—about wantin’ to share a bed with you?” He laughed to himself. She didn’t have to answer him. He could see it on his face. “Fuckin’ hell,” Daryl mused. “He sure done a number on you, didn’t he?” She didn’t respond. Daryl stood up. “OK—hell—OK...that’s how we gotta play this.” 

He walked over to his bag and heaved it up off the floor where he’d tossed it in the corner. He tossed the bag on the bed and unzipped it. 

“I was almost ashamed of this,” Daryl said. “No—I weren’t even almost ashamed of it. I was all the damn way ashamed of it. But here’s what the hell I got in my bag—at the risk of sendin’ you runnin’ all the damn way back to Liberty. And I packed this bag ‘fore we got here an’ so you know I brung it with me.” Daryl unloaded several handfuls of the condoms onto the bed. Carol watched as he piled them up. She watched, too, as he dropped the oversized bottle of lube onto the bed among them. Daryl stared at them. It really was a ridiculous sized pile. He chewed his lip. “I don’t wanna look at’cha,” he admitted. “But there you see it. I clearly was hopin’ we was gonna share the bed. Either that or I was hopin’ we was on the second floor so we could make about—prob’ly two-hundred durable fuckin’ water balloons to pitch at people in the street. I’d let you decide for yourself which you thought was the truth, but I can tell you in the kinda spirits that would have you figurin’ we would really be up all night filling these damned things up with water.”

Carol got up and came over. She sat on the edge of the bed. She was still holding a balled up pile of tissue, but at least this looked fresh and not soggy like the last bunch she’d been holding. She ran her hand through the pile of condoms and spread them out on the bed.

“How many is this?” She asked.

“About two hundred,” Daryl said. “Give or take a couple.” 

“For three nights?” Carol asked.

Daryl snorted. He couldn’t help it. 

“They were there,” he said. “I brought ‘em. Figured—you’d tell me how many you had a mind to use and we’d have enough. Can I look at’cha yet or...what kinda look you got on your face? I’m focusing on your hands right now.”

“Please look at me,” Carol said.

Daryl did.

She looked better. He’d never imagined that two hundred condoms and what felt like a half-gallon of lube would make a woman feel better, but apparently it did. Her face was still damp and a little streaked, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. 

“I don’t know what he said to you,” Daryl said. “And maybe I don’t wanna know...’cause it might make me hate him more than I can hold right now. But—whatever it was, it weren’t true. And I don’t even have to know what it was to know that.”

“I can’t believe you brought all this,” Carol said. “I—I might...”

“What?” Daryl asked.

“Nothing,” Carol said. “It’s nothing.” She offered him a smile. It was more sincere than the one before. She raised her eyebrow at him. “Just—if you hate my hair, Daryl...I could change it.”

“Do you wanna change your hair?” Daryl asked. Carol stared at him. “Well?” He pressed.

“Nobody’s ever asked me that before,” Carol said. 

“Then I’m askin’ it,” Daryl said. “I don’t care. One way or another—it’s on your head. I mean—I don’t see nothin’ wrong with it.”

“Do you think I look ridiculous?” Carol asked. “In these clothes?” 

“Do you think I do?” Daryl asked.

“Are you going to answer every question I ask you with another question?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. He could feel the knot in his chest loosening as he felt some of the tension evaporating out of the room.

“Are you going to keep askin’ me ridiculous shit?” He asked. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” Carol said. 

“You askin’ me if I wanna be here with you is ridiculous,” Daryl said. “It’s me who oughta be askin’ you that. Askin’ you—when the hell you was thinkin’ about tellin’ me it’s been fun but you’re outta here.”

“I didn’t leave after you showed me—all two hundred of your weekend plans,” Carol offered.

“I got one more thing to show you,” Daryl said. “And then—maybe we go get somethin’ to eat?”

“There’s more?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“I told you that I weren’t jerkin’ you around. I told you that I knowed it was you I was spendin’ the weekend with. Go wash your face? Unless—you wanna go like that. I mean—it’s OK if you do.”

Carol stood up and laughed to herself. 

“Asshole,” she muttered as she walked around collecting up her soggy tissues and depositing them all in the trashcan. Daryl watched her while she cleaned up. She gave him a half-smile as she passed by him on the way to the bathroom.

He unwrapped the bracelet and his pulse quickened. 

He was feeling confident and he almost feared that he was a touch overconfident. It was a chance he was going to take, though, before he lost his nerve. In the bathroom, Carol was washing her face with the door open. He gave her a moment and stepped around the corner to watch her as she was putting some more stuff on her eyes and painting up her lips. 

“You don’t need all that paint,” he offered. “But you look beautiful anyway.” 

She looked at him, her mouth partially open like it surprised her to hear him say it, and then she smiled. 

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. She didn’t dispute what he’d said, but he could tell she was fighting against her instinct to do just that.

Daryl held up the bracelet between his finger and thumb so that she would see it.

“I brought this. If you don’t want it then you don’t gotta take it. I was—I know it’s a little early maybe...and maybe it’s way too damn early in the weekend...but I was thinkin’ that...if things went well...”

“Daryl,” Carol said, catching his attention. 

He stopped talking and looked at her. She smiled at him and raised her eyebrows at him again.

“Just say what you want to say,” Carol said. “Because—I’ve got a good feeling that, whatever it is, I’m going to say yes.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Thing is—I don’t know how to say it ‘cause I never said it before,” Daryl said.

“Then I probably don’t know how to answer it because I’ve never answered it before,” Carol said. “But we’ll both do the best we can.”

Daryl handed her the bracelet and she turned it over in her palm.

“I was hoping you might—wanna try your hand at bein’ my old lady,” Daryl said. “I mean—if you wanted.” 

Carol didn’t answer him with words. Instead, she simply offered him a kiss. The stickiness of her lip gloss was a strange sensation and it tasted sweet. Daryl closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of her teeth scraping his lip and her tongue teasing his. He felt like it was the kind of kiss that he ought to remember. 

She’d almost stripped him of his breath by the time she pulled away and he smiled at her. 

“I think I messed up your makeup again,” he offered. “Your lip gloss.”

“I can fix it,” Carol assured him. 

“Was that a yes?” Daryl asked.

“What did you think, Daryl?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Now it’s you who’s gonna answer me in questions?” 

“Can you put it on me?” She asked, offering him the bracelet.

It took him three times to get the bracelet on her. His hands were sweaty and he nearly dropped it until he’d dried them off on his jeans. Then he couldn’t get the tiny clasp open and his fingers were shaking too badly to get it hooked. Finally, though, he clasped it and it fell delicately on her wrist. Still standing by the bathroom sink with her lip gloss smudged, Carol admired it.

“You like it?” Daryl asked. “It’s right? It’s a good bracelet?”

“More than the bracelet,” Carol said, “I like—what it means.”

Daryl swallowed. 

“I like what it means, too,” Daryl said. “But—you’re sure you don’t wanna change your mind or wait or whatever? I know—you’re new to the club and all that and you ain’t had time to learn everything.”

“You’re right,” Carol said. “I’m new and I’ve got a lot to learn. So—why don’t you let me fix my lip gloss and...you can start teaching me?”


	38. Chapter 38

AN: Here we are, another chapter.

I appreciate your response to the story so much! I’m excited to hear what you have to say each step of the journey! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it! This is not slotted to be a short one, though, so we’re going to get to see a good bit of them navigating things together. 

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Remember to let me know what you think!

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The closer they got to the restaurant where they were supposed to eat, the more crowded the area became. Rather than fight to get the bike through the crowd, Daryl got them on the right street and found a spot to park that pleased him. Then they set off on foot to cover the last few blocks.

Carol didn’t mind the walk, and she told Daryl as much after he asked several times if she was sure that she wouldn’t rather him drop her off before he went searching out a park.

It was a nice night. There was a touch of coolness in the air that made her leather jacket feel justified. Walking, she could wrap herself around Daryl’s arm and borrow some of his body heat. She could see the stars that were visible even though there was a multitude of bright lights above them that came from the establishments around them.

She could hear the sounds—mostly the sounds of motorcycle engines and people being loud—and she could smell all the scents that filled the air. 

She didn’t mind the walk at all.

She only let go of Daryl’s arm when he offered her a cigarette, and then she still held on with one arm. He didn’t seem to mind, either. He walked in a pretty relaxed fashion beside her. 

Nobody that they passed looked at them strange. None of the other obvious bikers seemed to realize that she was just an imposter—someone who had never been anywhere where so many bikers were gathered together at once. They all just walked on by on their way to wherever they were going. A few threw up a hand and, every now and again, someone mumbled out a greeting. Others, from their bikes, yelled out greetings that were meant for the entire street.

“You like seafood?” Daryl asked. “We come to this place about every time we get down here. There’s bigger places—but they usually a little more crowded. This place, everybody is nice. It’s biker-friendly.”

“Isn’t everything biker-friendly, here?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“You do got a lot to learn. Not hardly. A lotta places shut down while we’re down here. Some’ll stay open, but you know just about the moment you get in there that you ain’t welcome. They’ll follow you around the whole time you lookin’. They’re waitin’ for you to pocket something. Sometimes they’ll even say you did when you didn’t—start some shit that never needed to be started.”

“But if you aren’t guilty...” Carol said.

“Oh you’ll prob’ly get away eventually, but then you wasted a lotta time on that situation. It’s better to just leave the minute you get a feeling that you ain’t welcome,” Daryl said. “There are some vendors down here, though. You might find you somethin’ you like.”

“I don’t want to buy anything,” Carol said. “I didn’t come down here to spend money that I don’t have on things that I don’t need.”

“Your own jacket, at least,” Daryl said. “An’ who the hell said you was buyin’ it?”

“I don’t want you buying me things,” Carol said.

Daryl laughed.

“Well you gonna have to get used to that. You my ole lady now—so I’ma buy you somethin’. Besides—everybody needs their own jacket. Just—somethin’. You gonna be an ole lady now. You need one.”

“I have Andrea’s for the time being,” Carol said. “And she’s got several.”

“And you get one of your own. I want you to have it. And a good pair of ridin’ boots.”

“I don’t need anything!” Carol insisted.

“It’s for protection,” Daryl said. “Call it a Christmas gift or a birthday gift or...whatever. A jacket and boots. They’re just basics, Carol. Staples like bread an’ milk. You’ll get more’n your money’s worth out of ‘em. I swear.”

“You mean I’ll get more than your money’s worth out of them,” Carol said. 

“That too,” Daryl agreed.

“I just—don’t want to start this off like that,” Carol said. “I don’t want you thinking that I’m...I don’t know...that I came here to suck you dry or that I’m after your money.” 

Daryl laughed and dropped his arm around Carol’s shoulder. He hugged her to him as they walked.

“Don’t’cha worry about that,” he said. “If you was here just for my money, you’d be a sad, sad woman right now. I ain’t tryin’ to buy you or nothin’ like that. It’s just—I like you ridin’ with me. A good jacket and a pair of boots is just basic gear. That’s all. Just—don’t fight me on it, OK? This one time?” 

Carol sucked in a breath and willed the tension that had come into her body to leave when she released the breath.

“OK,” she said. “Just as long as we understand each other.”

“Crystal clear,” Daryl said. “Now—I’m gettin’ surf n’ turf. What suits you?”

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Daryl watched Carol suck butter off her fingers and laugh at something that Sadie said to her. They had bonded fast—they were both the new kids in town. 

But you wouldn’t have guessed from watching them from the outside. 

Carol had slung Andrea’s jacket over the back of her chair. The shirt she was wearing was nice. It matched her eyes. Daryl liked the way that the little silver bracelet looked on her wrist. Much like Carol had said, when she’d been admiring the piece of jewelry earlier, Daryl liked what it stood for as much as anything else.

The night was wearing on. When they all finished their meal, they’d walk the street that Daryl and Carol had already walked. Most of them were parked near the restaurant, so they’d have to walk back to get their bikes. Daryl and Carol wouldn’t have to put in the second leg of the walk. Then, they’d all split up. Some of them would go for drinks. Others would go back to the motel to spend their evening as they pleased.

Daryl and Carol would go back to the motel. It was a thought that simultaneously horrified and excited Daryl. 

He only hoped that he didn’t let her down too badly or, at the very least, that he could convince her that, given time and practice, he could be whatever the hell she wanted him to be. She still had no idea, after all, that he really had very little to offer her in the bedroom—or in any area of life, really.

“So—you couldn’t wait to eat your supper ‘fore you had your dessert?” Merle hissed into Daryl’s ear as he leaned into him. He laughed quietly. “That it, brother?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Merle,” Daryl hissed back his older brother. 

Luckily nobody was really paying them any attention because nearly everyone at the table was occupied with some kind of conversation.

“Don’t be ashamed, brother,” Merle said. “Hell—I got a quick piece myself. Makes the whole evenin’ go better. You waitin’ on it the whole time, you start to get antsy. Get you a quick piece an’ you can ride out the whole night with an easy feelin’.” 

Merle could give long-ass speeches on pussy and its merits if anyone wanted to listen. The funny thing was that Daryl was pretty sure that Merle had probably had his fair share of pussy in his early years, but Daryl would have bet his left nut on the fact that Merle hadn’t so much as been too close to a pussy except Andrea’s in two damn decades.

But his brother liked what he liked. Daryl just did his brain the favor of trying, most of the time, to ignore the fact that when Merle pontificated on pussy, he was probably always talking about Andrea’s. Daryl simply didn’t need that kind of thing bumping around in his brain.

Daryl frowned at his brother. 

“It weren’t like that, Merle,” Daryl said. “Just some shit we had to talk about. You know about talkin’, don’t’cha? I imagine you an’ Andrea prob’ly done it once or twice when you was first gettin’ together.”

Merle laughed. He was in good spirits. There was no doubt in Daryl’s mind that his brother had, indeed, gotten pussy since it did always seem to improve his mood. He was also enjoying having the whole club together. He loved big group events. Of course, he also liked places that gave him heaping plates of steak and seafood, so they were pretty much in the best possible position for Merle Dixon. 

“I’m just givin’ you hell, brother. But—I can’t help but notice that the lil’ lady’s got herself a piece of jewelry that she weren’t wearin’ this morning. You know where she got it from?” 

“You know where the hell it come from, Merle,” Daryl said with a sigh.

“Just meanin’ you lookin’ forward to a good weekend, brother, or...”

Daryl swallowed. He felt his face grow warm and he had the uncontrollable urge to smile. He didn’t try to fight it.

“Means I got me an’ ole lady,” Daryl said. “That’s what the hell it means.”

Daryl didn’t expect his brother to hoot like he did, but Merle did release a sound that was very close to a hoot. He drew the attention of everyone at the table and immediately washed his mouth out with a swallow of beer before he stood up.

“Waitress? Waitress?” He called, catching the attention of the waitress that was serving them. She was clearly pleased to be serving them because, unlike some people, she thought they’d be good tippers—and they would be. “Can I get—I want a round of drinks for everyone. Everyone. Everybody gets what the hell they drinkin’. Can you do that?” She gave him a “yessir” and practically jogged off to fill his order. 

Daryl shook his head and mouthed an apology to Carol when she immediately looked at him for an explanation. He offered another apology, mouthed just the same way, to Alice’s companion since she had turned to see what Carol was looking at and was now expecting Daryl to let her in on what was happening.

“I got an announcement to make,” Merle said. “It maybe isn’t my announcement to make, but I gotta make sure that it gets made an’ I know my brother well enough to know that—well, if we leave it in his hands he’ll just keep it quiet an’ see if we can’t figure this shit out. So—I’ma help everyone figure it out. Most of you—with the exception of the prospects down there at the end of the table—been knowin’ me an’ my brother a long damn time. Who you might notta knowed a long time, though, is our fine House Mouse. Mouse—darlin’—could’ja stand up?” 

Carol looked at Daryl, wide-eyed, and all he could do was apologize to her again.

“Stand up? Just a minute, darlin’. Let everybody get a good look at’cha.”

Carol’s face ran red, but she stood. Daryl tugged at his brother’s arm, trying to get his attention to make him stop. There was no stopping Merle, though, once he got started. It would have been easier to stop a freight train.

“If you didn’t know it yet, this here’s Carol. Take a good, long look at her boys,” Merle said. “Ladies, you too. Because this lil’ Mouse is spoken for an’ she’s takin’ my brother fresh off the market. Stand up, Daryl. So ever’body can congratulate you! My brother done gone an’ trapped him a mouse to call his ole lady!”

In good nature, everyone at the table applauded. Daryl did stand up so that Carol wasn’t the only one standing, and then he gave her permission to sit with a wave of his hand. She gladly took it. 

“Hell—Merle never was one for lettin’ you make your own announcements,” Daryl said. “Not that I figured it merited a formal announcement or nothin’.” 

“To hell it didn’t!” Mac announced from his seat. “This here is a momentous occasion!” 

“May the ride be smooth an’ long, brother!” Willis barked from his spot.

Carol buried her face in her hand, but she didn’t look quite as mortified as she probably could have. Daryl laughed nervously to himself.

“I wanted to keep her around a little longer ‘fore I let her know what a buncha fuckin’ assholes you all were,” Daryl said. “But—I guess the cat’s out the bag now.” 

“Speakin’ a’ cats...” Cash offered. He didn’t finish his statement. He didn’t have to. It was simply meant to stir up some laughter and it did just that. 

Daryl sat down and leaned across the table to toss another whispered apology in Carol’s direction. Luckily, as quickly as the announcement had drawn everyone’s attention, they’d lost interest in it. There would be a great deal more heckling and harassment, but it wouldn’t come all at once. They’d want to savor it. They’d want to make it last. 

They could draw shit out until they were shoveling dirt over someone’s face. It was an art form that every brother seemed to master.

But Carol gave Daryl a genuine smile and mouthed to him across the table that it was “OK” before she returned to eating her dinner and entertaining the woman next to her who needed to be filled in on much of what had happened at the table.

Daryl accepted his drink when the waitress brought it, and he smiled, in spite of himself, when he noticed is brother grinning at him. 

“Here’s to a long an’ smooth ride, brother,” Merle said, raising his glass in Daryl’s direction. “Hope it’s the best damn ride a’ your sorry ass life.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. He nodded his head. He raised his glass up and touched it to his brother’s. 

“Fuck it,” he said. “I’ll drink to that.” 

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AN: That’s the last one for the day. I’ll be back when real life allows. 

Don’t forget to check the back chapters to make sure you didn’t miss any! 

Let me know what you think! All your comments and reviews are much loved!


	39. Chapter 39

AN: Here we are, another chapter. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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The convenience store just across the street from the motel sold them a six pack of liquid courage to split. Carol was sliding the chain into place on the motel door even as Daryl was ridding the first two bottles of beer of their metal tops. He set them up at the small table of the motel room so that they could sit across from each other while they nursed the drinks and steadied their nerves. In the middle of the table, Daryl put a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and an ashtray. It was there for whoever wanted it, whenever they might want.

 

“I’m sorry if my brother embarrassed you,” Daryl said. “He don’t always think about what he’s doing before he does it. He’s the kind that sorta jumps first an’ asks where his parachute is when he’s already in the air.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, I’m sorry.” 

Carol laughed to herself. She tasted her beer. She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. 

She was nervous, but being nervous around Daryl was simply different than any other nervousness she’d known before. She helped herself to a cigarette, and Daryl flicked the lighter for her and lit it before she could even make the movement to do so herself. 

“Thanks,” Carol said quietly. “It’s OK, really. He didn't embarrass me. OK, well maybe he did, just a little. But I think I've seen enough of the MC to realize that a little harassment comes with the territory.”

“It absolutely does,” Daryl said. “And maybe I oughta apologize for that shit. It’s kinda a club thing to give each other hell. But—everybody’s harmless for the most part. I promise you that. They’re assholes, but they’re...they’re the good kinda assholes. If there’s even such a thing.”

Carol laughed.

“I think that’s absolutely a thing,” she ventured. “I’ve known some not-so-good assholes.”

“I know you have,” Daryl said. “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Carol said.

“Ain’t we all,” Daryl commented. “Damnedest thing is that all our bein’ sorry can’t change nothin’ for either of us. No matter how much we might—ya know—want it to.” 

“So Merle—giving me a hard time. Is that a good thing?” Carol asked. “Like a rite of passage? Some way of saying that I’m an accepted part of this group or...”

 

“It sounds awful to say it that way,” Daryl said. “But that's kind of what it is. It's like if they don't give you hell around here, you oghta worry, because that's when they don't really like you or they don't really care about you.”

 

“They're just kind of excited,” Carol said with a smirk, “that you got an old lady.” She raised her eyebrows at him and Daryl smiled. His cheeks blushed pink.

 

“Yeah, well, maybe, but I’m excited that I got me an old lady too,” Daryl said. “I imagine maybe some of ‘em’s pissed.”

“Pissed?” Carol asked.

“That I got there first,” Daryl said. 

Carol’s stomach twisted.

“You mean...” she said.

He nodded.

“That still bother you?” He asked. 

Daryl had told Carol that his brother had practically smelled Crockett’s transgressions on him. He’d asked Carol if she wanted him to “handle” the situation, but she truly didn’t. Nothing had actually happened and she wanted to let it die as best she could. The last thing she wanted was to be the woman who came and brought discord to the club. She shook her head.

“I’m an old lady now,” she said. She left that as her only response, and Daryl seemed to accept it. He nodded his head and helped himself to a cigarette. He smiled to himself after a second of quiet contemplation.

“You are,” he mused quietly.

Carol felt a fluttering in her chest at the way that he said it. There was a touch of something like awe there, and it struck her. It surprised her. It felt good in a way that she wouldn’t have tried to explain to him for the fear that he might never understand it. 

It made her feel warm, though, and she held onto it while a comfortable silence settled between them. She guarded the silence for a few moments, and then she broke it. 

“I have to get used to it,” Carol said. “Being an old lady. Is it one of those things that comes with a guidebook? Or do I just have to learn as I go?”

Daryl hummed to himself and shrugged his shoulders. 

“I guess Andrea’d probably be the one that would tell you the most about it,” Daryl said. “Being as she's been Merle's old lady for as long as I can remember. And—I mean—since she kinda runs things around here. But then, I don't know how much there is to know, except you gotta know about the club. You gotta—ya know—know about the cut. What it means to wear it. What it means to all of us.” 

 

“I think I'm learning some of it,” Carol said. “But I'm not sure I understand all of it. Not yet.”

“You don't have to understand it all right away,” Daryl said. “There’ll be plenty of time to learn. If you stick around…”

Carol’s stomach caught at Daryl’s quick addition of his final words. She frowned at him.

 

“You're genuinely afraid I won't stick around,” Carol said. “You want me to think it’s a joke, but I can tell it isn’t.” 

 

“That obvious?” Daryl asked. 

 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Carol said, “I don't have any intention of going anywhere.”

Daryl laughed. 

 

“Actually, that does kind of make me feel little bit better,” he said. He sighed and picked at the label on his beer bottle before he tasted a bit more of the beer inside. “I guess it’s confession time.” 

 

“Confession time?” Carol asked.

 

“You don't know what you're getting into,” Daryl said, “and you really ought to before you really commit to it. It's only fair. I don't… I'm not… I guess you could say I'm not one of those people that has like a ton of experience with women. I mean, there's been one or two here or there, just for a night or two, but…”

 

“Nobody to really stay?” Carol asked, finishing the statement for him when it became clear that he was truly struggling to get through it. 

 

Daryl nodded.

 

“Maybe a lot of them—maybe it was because I didn't want ‘em to stay,” Daryl said. “They weren’t like that. They weren’t the kind I wanted to stay. There was maybe only one. No...I’m sure of it. There was only one.”

 

“What happened to her?” Carol asked.

 

Daryl shook his head.

 

“Come on,” Carol urged. “You know about my situation. My ex-husband. Ed. I can’t exactly hide what happened with him. You might as well tell me what happened to you.” 

 

Daryl laughed.

“This is supposed to be some ‘I showed you mine’ thing?” He asked. 

 

“Absolutely,” Carol says. “I want to know—about your life.”

 

“Maybe it’s a story that don't exactly set the mood,” Daryl said. 

 

“You can give me the spark notes version,” Carol said. “Something short and sweet. I'll let you keep the details until you're ready to share them. But I do hope that one day you'll be ready to share them.”

 

Daryl considered it a moment and nodded his head.

 

“OK,” he said. “OK, you're right. So—I guess—I just thought she was my type, you know? I mean, I don't know that I have a type, but I knew what I was looking for. I thought she was what I was looking for. And when I asked her—I mean when I told her what I was looking for, she said she wanted all the same things. She wanted the same kind of life. She wanted everything that I wanted.”

“Sounds perfect,” Carol said. Daryl hummed. “So what happened?” 

 

“She left,” Daryl said. “Details don’t really matter. She just figured out that—she mighta wanted some kinda life like I wanted, but she forgot that she shoulda told me that it weren’t never me that she wanted in that life. She loved the cut. The idea of it. But just for the thrill—not for the long haul.” 

Carol sucked in a breath and held it for a moment. She could feel that there was still a good bit of sadness in Daryl. Maybe it was even something akin to betrayal. This woman had hurt him. Carol didn’t know, though, if it was the woman, herself, or just what she had represented to him that brought about his profound sadness over the loss. 

 

“What is you want? Daryl?” Carol asked.

 

“Probably a whole damn lotta what I can't have,” Daryl said. Carol laughed nervously. This was information that she probably needed to know, but she was almost afraid to know what it might be that Daryl wanted—what had scared away the one woman he’d cared about before, and had kept anyone else from trying their best to get him to fall in love with them. 

“Since...I’m here,” Carol said. “Don’t you think that you might want to run it by me? So I know what’s on your mind?”

Daryl frowned deeply enough that his whole face pulled downward with the expression. 

“I spent most my whole damn life watching Merle just lovin’Andrea. Twenty years he's loved her. You know she ain’t that much older than me. Not even a whole year. Merle, he's a decade older than her. She was practically a baby when she got tangled up with him. Sixteen. Every damn body said she was fuckin’ up her whole life gettin’ tangled up with the likes of him. Hell—maybe they were right. But she didn’t care. Because she loved him. And Merle—well, he can pretend a lot of things. He can run his mouth like no-damn-body else. But there’s no denyin’ that Merle loves Andrea. He always has. And I expect he always will—at least until they shovelin’ dirt over his sorry ass head. But there’s always been one thing that’s bothered me.” 

“What's that?” Carol asked.

“All this time they been together,” Daryl said, “and Merle never asked her to marry him. He never asked her to have the kids that I know she’s been wantin’. Kids I know his ass wishes they had. He don’t say it, but he’s always been fuckin’ terrified that if he was to marry her, it would all go to piss. So he just exists. Keeps on just like they been keepin’ on for two decades—scared that marryin’ her will change the whole damned thing—an’ she don’t push him.” 

“Because she loves him enough,” Carol offered, “that she’d rather have him like this—maybe with a little less than everything she could ever dream of—than not have him at all.” 

Daryl shrugged.

“I just don’t know why he don’t realize that she ain’t gonna turn into somebody else just ‘cause they get married. If she was hidin’ something, don’t you think it’d be out by now?” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I would think” she said. “But I can’t say marriage is the answer to everything. I got married. Look how that turned out for me. But—a part of me wants to believe that all marriages don’t have to turn out like that. They don’t have to go bad.” 

 

“They don't,” Daryl said with absolute confidence.

“Is that what you want?” Carol asked. “Marriage?” 

Daryl nodded.

“Yeah. I guess. I mean, I want the marriage, but I also want all the rest. You know—the old lady. The marriage. Kids. The comin’ home at the end of the day to somethin’ more than the Chambers.”

 

“I thought you liked the Chambers,” Carol said.

 

“I like the Chambers just fine,” Daryl said, “but I'd like to know there's more to life than the Chambers. But I don't mean all that's got to be like tomorrow. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want to scare you off.” 

Carol considered it a moment. She drank some of her beer. She lit another cigarette for herself, and Daryl followed suit. She shook her head.

 

“No,” she said, confident in her response. “It doesn't scare me off. There’s something you ought to know, though, as well.”

Daryl visibly swallowed. 

“I’m all ears,” Daryl said. “You know a lot of my shit now. The details—they don’t matter. I’ll tell you later. If you even care.” 

“Oh—I care,” Carol assured him. “But—I understand that you don’t want to tell me everything and spoil the whole mood of the evening. Of course—I might spoil the mood.”

“It’s OK,” Daryl assured her. “The mood’ll keep. Just—tell me what’cha gotta tell me.” 

“I was—never with anybody except Ed,” Carol said. She said it quickly so that maybe it wouldn’t sound as bad. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I’ve never had sex with anybody else. And maybe you ought to know that he told me I’m not very good at it. He said I’m—really bad, actually.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

 

“So maybe it’s the case that you don't know what you're doing,” he said. Carol shook her head.

“I don’t think I do,” she said quietly.

“And I'm not sure I know what I'm doing,” Daryl said. “So together, we oughta be real fuckin’ talented. A perfect match. This has got the potential to either be really bad, because neither of us know what the hell we’re doin’, or real fuckin’ good, because neither of us knows the other one sucks.” 

Carol laughed. 

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” she mused. Daryl laughed in response to her comment. “Well—we do have two hundred tries to get it right.” She raised her eyebrows at Daryl and shrugged her shoulders.

“Room to grow,” Daryl said. He opened his second beer and drank a few quick swallows out of it. “So—now that more of the cards are on the table, are you thinkin’ about givin’ me that bracelet back?”

Carol shook her head. She offered her wrist over to Daryl.

“I would like you to take it off of me,” Carol said. “Just for now,” she added quickly when she saw Daryl make a face. “The chain is very delicate—and—I don’t want it to break. I don’t want to risk losing the charms.” 

Daryl smiled. This time it was genuine. It went all the way to his eyes.

“You that concerned about it,” he said. “I’ll get you a stronger chain.”

“I don’t want you buying me things,” Carol said. She watched as Daryl unclasped the chain. She noticed that, this time, and oddly enough, his fingers weren’t trembling like they had been before. He was clearly feeling more confident.

Maybe she had given that to him. She hoped she had. 

He put the bracelet on the table and then he caught her hand. He pulled it to him, across the table, and he turned it so that he could place a kiss on the underside of her wrist. The action sent a shiver all the way through Carol’s body and her heart danced wildly in her chest. She swallowed and found the action to be more difficult than it normally was. 

“You—must have more tricks up your sleeve than you let on,” Daryl said. “If you’re worried about snappin’ that chain.”

Carol smiled at him. 

“Maybe I know you enough, already,” Carol said, “that I’m just banking on the possibility of really good. Are you—finished with that beer?” 

Daryl looked at the beer. He looked back at Carol. 

There was a flicker of fear in his eyes that sent the same strange surge of confidence through Carol’s chest that had become so familiar to her when she was in his presence. 

“Don’t even want it,” Daryl said. 

Carol smiled at him. She turned her hand in his and caught his fingers. She squeezed them.

“Then why don’t you pull the covers back? Finish it if you want? I’m just going to step into the bathroom—change into something more comfortable? Is that OK?” 

Daryl nodded. He laughed to himself.

“Can’t think of nothin’ I’d like better,” he offered in response. Carol smiled to herself, pleased with his words and his reaction.

“Me either,” she said, standing up to do just what she’d said she would.


	40. Chapter 40

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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In the bathroom, Carol changed into the garment that she’d borrowed from Andrea.

Andrea had lingerie of every possible shape and size imaginable. She had everything from soft silk nightgowns to leather and metal pieces that Carol couldn’t imagine wrestling into. Standing before them, Carol had tried to decide what it was that Daryl might like. He seemed to her to be the kind that might enjoy the leather ones that somewhat frightened Carol, honestly, but Andrea had intercepted and asked if she could make a suggestion. Carol had gladly accepted.

Andrea thought that Daryl might like something simple and understated. He might like something that didn’t require too much work to free Carol’s body from it—and Carol might like that, too. He might like something soft and inviting—at least until they both learned what they liked.

What she’d chosen was simple. It was black lace panties with a long baby doll gown that flowed down to the midway point of Carol’s thighs and hid the panties like some kind of prize to be found later. It was somewhat see-through, but it obscured everything that Carol wanted hidden so that, standing in the bathroom and looking in the mirror, she could imagine that it didn’t look half-bad.

She reminded herself that Daryl was waiting for her in the bedroom, and that he was actually looking forward to her emergence from the bathroom. Unlike Ed, he wanted to be with her. 

She gathered up her courage and she came out of the bathroom. Daryl was sitting in the chair where she’d left him before, but he’d turned the bed back and fluffed up the pillows. He stared at her when she came out of the bathroom and Carol smiled to herself at his expression. 

Daryl’s anxiety was palpable. It hung around them in the room.

Normally Carol would worry about what was to come. Maybe she’d even want to flee the situation. But with Daryl’s anxiety came the strange sense of power that she sometimes found in his presence. It didn’t make her want to flee. Instead, it made her want to comfort him. It made her want to soothe over the fear he felt and replace it with something that would make him feel wonderful. 

The very thought of giving him the something wonderful that she imagined having the power to bestow upon him filled her chest with a flood of warmth. 

Carol walked over to him. He was still staring at her. He’d taken off his shoes and removed his belt, but he’d removed nothing else. Carol ran her fingers through his hair and then she slid her hands down to his shoulders and slid her fingers under the worn leather of his cut. 

“Can I?” She asked.

“What?” Daryl asked. Carol smiled at how his voice sounded.

“Take it off?” She asked.

Daryl seemed to realize, only then, that he was even wearing clothes—or that he was wearing a great deal more than Carol was. He nodded.

“Whatever you want,” he said. 

Carol pushed at the cut and Daryl raised his arms to help her take it off of him. She put it on the table and then she slid her hands down his chest—his hard and rippled chest, the feeling of it under the soft cotton of the shirt sent electric shocks through her body—to catch the bottom of his shirt and lift it. He allowed her to help him remove that as well. 

He still didn’t touch her. It was as though he didn’t dare. Carol backed up and offered a hand to Daryl. When he didn’t take it immediately, she wiggled her fingers at him. He smiled at her, then, and took her hand. 

“I won’t bite,” Carol teased. She raised her eyebrows at him. “Unless—you’re into that. Then we could make an exception.” 

Daryl laughed. 

“Uh—to be honest, I’m not sure what I’m into, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn’t hate it.”

“We’ll work up to it,” Carol assured him. She led him over to the bed—the short distance doing little more than serving to get Daryl to his feet. She slipped her hand into the band of his jeans and popped the button. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said. 

Daryl laughed.

“An’ here I am—that I ain’t even noticed my clothes,” Daryl said. He helped her get his pants undone, and he let them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them out of the way. He was wearing black boxer shorts and nothing more. He looked down and laughed to himself. “Now I think we’re about even,” he said. “You even got more’n me.” 

Carol sat down on the bed directly in front of Daryl.

“Now what do we do?” Carol asked.

Daryl smiled. He was clearly feeling better now. Some of the anxiety was disappearing. Carol could tell, and she was glad for it. 

“Your call,” Daryl said. 

Carol nodded her understanding. Nothing was going to happen that she didn’t make clear she was prepared for. She’d asked him to wait. She’d asked him to take it slow. He was taking everything as slowly as she wanted. 

She noticed that he’d put some of their foil-wrapped weekend plans and the bottle on the nightstand, but he was making no move to do anything except stand in front of her until she assured him that she hadn’t change her mind. She was confident that, if she asked him to, he’d simply go to sleep with her right then and there and never complain to her about it. 

It gave her another boost of confidence that she needed as she considered the fact that Daryl was very close to seeing some of the most vulnerable parts of herself. She’d seen the angry marks on his back—marks that he was baring to her again. He hadn’t seen hers, though. He didn’t know what they looked like—and she couldn’t, figuratively or literally, turn her back on them.

“Before we go any further,” Carol said, “I have to tell you...I’ve seen your scars. But you haven’t seen mine. They’re different than yours, but they’re there. Some scars. A few cuts. A few from a pocket knife. It was a rough night when Ed had way too much to drink. He lost his job that week. Got it into his head that I was cheating on him. I was going to leave him. Maybe I was the reason that he lost his job...I don’t know. There are more than a few cigarette burns. Some stretchmarks, too, from Sophia.” 

Daryl stared at her and nodded his head. 

“I understand,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“They’re pretty ugly,” Carol warned.

“I’m not gonna tell you that scars are beautiful,” Daryl said. “I know what the hell mine look like. So—what I’m gonna tell you is that, even if your scars aren’t beautiful, I think you are. No matter what. What’s it fuckin’ matter to me if we’re a matchin’ pair? Besides—they just show you been through a lot. More’n you shoulda had to go through. But you’re still here. Still willin’ to let me see ‘em. So—that’s what the hell I find beautiful about ‘em.” He smiled to himself. His face blushed pink. “Besides—you don’t gotta be ashamed about stretchmarks. They happen, but look what the hell you got to show for ‘em. That’s a fine ass kid you got.” 

 

Carol smiled to herself. She lifted herself up enough to free the bottom of the garment she was wearing and to lift it to reveal the black lace panties beneath. She’d shaved and carefully prepared for what she’d hoped was going to happen. It looked like her hope might come true. All around her thighs, the offending marks from Ed looked angry. She made a face at Daryl and waved at them. She didn’t say it, but she knew that he understood what she was saying.

Well here they are.

Daryl examined the scars from a distance. Then, all of a sudden, Carol saw the tension from his shoulders melt away as his shoulders sagged. He was relaxing entirely. Something had taken over for the anxiety that he’d been fighting against. Daryl leaned down and kissed her. Carol enjoyed the kiss. She closed her eyes to savor the way that it felt. It felt like he meant it. It felt like he didn’t want it to end. It made Carol feel wanted. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d sincerely felt wanted. When Daryl pushed her backward on the bed, she walked herself backward to give him as much room as he could possibly want. 

Without saying anything, Daryl slipped his hands underneath Carol and rearranged her on the bed. She gave herself over to him. He made space for himself between her legs and, without him even touching her in a suggestive way, Carol felt an unexpected ache throbbing in her body. She wished he was touching her even more. 

He looked at her, brow furrowed, like he was studying something he didn’t understand. Perhaps he was simply studying something he wished to understand more. Carol nearly lost her self-control over his expression alone. He pushed up the black fabric of the top that Carol was wearing and placed a kiss just below the spot where it hugged her breasts. He sprinkled another few kisses on Carol’s stomach and worked his way down toward her core. He stopped and hooked his fingers in the top of her panties. He looked at her.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

Carol moaned at him. She still maintained the sensation of power that she felt earlier, but there was something else there. She almost felt helpless against the feelings that that were flooding her system. She’d never actually felt quite this way before. She’d never experienced the unique mixture of sensations that coursed through her veins. They were overwhelming, but she enjoyed them.

She nodded her head. She tried her voice. It didn’t come out with any power or authority, but it was enough to communicate her desires to Daryl.

“Please,” she said. To further assure him that she wanted whatever he wanted to give her, Carol lifted herself up to allow him to slide down the panties. He worked them down her legs and tossed them to the floor. Carol felt vulnerable to him as pushed her legs apart again and leaned down close to her body. She closed her eyes when she felt his breath blowing against her. Daryl pushed her legs slightly further apart and then he kissed the inside of her thigh. Carol realized that he was kissing the scars there, tracing them with the tip of his tongue, and then kissing her again. He kissed her like he had kissed her lips—like he was enjoying it and he didn’t want it to end. He stopped, suddenly, and went to the other side to plant kisses there.

Almost involuntarily, Carol thrust her hips in his direction and silently begged for more. It was clear, though, that he had the full intention to give her more. She never had to beg.

He would do things on his own time, though. Carol closed her eyes and relaxed into the mattress. She wanted so much more from him, but she also knew that she was satisfied if this was all that the evening held for them. The intimate moment of having shared her scars with him, and the fact that he’d made it clear that they weren’t going to send him running away, was enough for now.

But it wasn’t all that was on offer. 

Carol gasped and jerked when Daryl latched onto her clit without warning and sent a bolt of electricity through her body. He backed away like it had shocked him.

“You OK?” He asked. “Want me to stop?” 

“No!” Carol spat. “No—I mean—I’m fine. Don’t stop. Please...unless you want to stop...”

Carol really hoped he had no desire to stop, and Daryl answered her by returning to what he was doing. Carol let herself get lost in it. It was something that Ed had never done because he’d said it disgusted him. He’d said it wasn’t something that real men did. 

But Carol believed Daryl was a real man. Everything about him felt real. The hunger with which he was attending to his work felt real as well.

And the more that Carol rewarded him with moans and praise, the more he threw himself into his work until Carol was pulling away from him because her mind made her feel like she might go mad and her body crackled with an odd sort of pleasurable pain that made her crave more while almost dreading Daryl’s touch.

When he stopped, she collapsed onto the bed, panting. 

“OK?” He asked.

Carol laughed to herself. She realized there were tears running out of her eyes and she wiped at them with her hand. 

“That was...incredible,” she breathed out. “I can...”

“Stay right there,” Daryl said, holding his hand out to her to still her. She didn’t move, just as he requested. “I can’t wait much longer. I do and...I swear there’s gonna be nothin’ left to see here for another fuckin’ hour. I mean—if you...ready.” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I think you know the answer to that,” Carol said. “But if you don’t, then I’ll tell you that I’m ready.” 

Carol watched Daryl as he struggled with a condom. He cursed it a few times and she laughed quietly to herself. He looked at her once, pink-cheeked, and smiled when he heard her laughing.

“Shut up,” he muttered with no real venom to his words. “Fuckin’ complicated pieces of shit.” 

“Are they really that complicated?” Carol asked, sitting up on her elbows.

“They are when you ain’t used to usin’ ‘em,” Daryl said. “It’s been like—well it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had need for one of ‘em. Can’t even get the fuckin’ wrapper open. Finally—now to get the damned thing on.”

“Do you need some help?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“This a skill you got? Somethin’ you neglected to tell me about when you was fillin’ my head with stories about how you don’t know nothin’?” 

Carol laughed.

“I haven’t done anything,” Carol said. 

“You been about to drive my ass crazy...son of a bitch!” 

Carol covered her mouth with one hand and wiped at her eyes with the other. 

“You’re the one who neglected to mention skills,” she offered. “Yay!” She declared, clapping for Daryl when he finally got the condom on.

“Bitch,” he muttered, laughing to himself. He grabbed the bottle of lube and brought it with him when he returned to her. Carol left him alone. She fully intended to let him do whatever he wanted. He hadn’t let her down yet, and she felt like he simply deserved this. He deserved to have exactly what he wanted. She laughed to herself when he squirted what he decided was too much lube in his hand, though, and cursed it. He laughed at her laughter. “Son of a bitch—it really comes out on you...”

He smeared it over himself and all between Carol’s legs. Her body reacted to his touch with a jerk, still sensitive, and then she relaxed. 

“Cold?” He asked.

“Perfect,” she said, even if it was a little cold from the temperature of the room. It was silky and smooth and she moaned at the feeling of Daryl rubbing his fingers against her opening in an effort to distribute it somewhat evenly. 

Daryl leaned over her and kissed her. She pulled away long enough to rid herself of the top she was still wearing. He teased her nipples with his tongue before he returned to kiss her lips again. 

When she felt him blindly searching out her entrance, Carol reached her hand down to help guide him. In one fluid and unexpected motion, he entered her entirely. Their kissing broke when she opened her mouth to him in surprise. His eyes opened as wide as her mouth in response. 

“Fuck—I’m sorry! Meant to go slow but—fuckin’ everything’s slippery as hell.”

As soon as she caught the breath that the surprise had taken from her, Carol smiled at him. To relieve his anxiety, she rolled her hips. He spat an expletive at her and closed his eyes. 

Her heart, already doing much more of a brisk workout than it had done in some time, did its best to pick up its pace a little more in response. The look of pleasure on his face was something Carol enjoyed. She liked knowing that she put it there. Her movements were limited, though, because her body was trapped under his. She decided that later—if he wasn’t opposed to it—she might ask him if they could try something that granted her more freedom and control.

For now, though, she simply wanted him to have what he wanted, however he might want it. 

She remembered how much he seemed to like her moaning and praise, so she bit her lip and offered him another satisfied moan as she scratched her nails gently against his skin.

It seemed to be exactly what he needed.

Carol couldn’t say if Daryl was good at sex or not. She had very little to which she could compare the experience. She didn’t know if Ed had been particularly good, either, but he’d insisted he was. 

Daryl was very different than Ed.

Daryl’s movements were hard and fast and hungry. He was seeking something and each sound that Carol made drove him deeper into a frenzy as he searched it out. The possible excess of lube made the friction between them desirable instead of painful. 

Carol simply gripped the sheets she could gather into her hands and enjoyed the experience.

When Daryl came, he came with expletives and panting. His full weight bore down on Carol for just a moment as he gave himself over to his pleasure. Then he slipped from her and settled down on the mattress next to her. 

Before he could seek her out, Carol rolled toward him and looked for a kiss that he happened to have waiting for her on his lips. Neither of them could breathe steadily and, therefore, their kisses started and stopped repeatedly. 

Neither of them minded.

“I told you,” he said, still panting. “I weren’t no good.”

“Are you kidding?” Carol asked.

“You didn’t cum,” Daryl said. “And don’t say you did. ‘Cause I know enough to know you ain’t.” 

“I think I did,” Carol said. “Before. When you were...”

“Yeah, maybe, but not then,” Daryl said.

“You win some, you lose some?” Carol asked, teasing. “I enjoyed it. Isn’t that all that matters?” 

“You don’t gotta lie,” Daryl said. 

“I wouldn’t,” Carol said. “Not to you.” 

Daryl frowned at her. 

“I wanted it to be good for you,” Daryl said. “You was so damned confident it would be.”

“And it was,” Carol assured him. “The best. Times two or three, even.”

The corners of his lips pulled upward with the hint of a smile and Carol smiled at him. She ran her fingers through his hair and cuddled near him. Their bodies were slick with sweat and lube and Carol’s own bodily fluids. Her body felt satisfyingly sore and hyper-aware of the fact that Daryl had only recently left her. 

It was the best she’d felt in a long time. 

And seeing his hint of a smile only made her feel better.

“We’ve still got two more nights,” Carol said. “And about a hundred and ninety nine more condoms.”

Daryl laughed. 

“We do,” he said. “If you still got some high hopes.”

“I do,” Carol assured him. “And I’ve got some ideas, too. I mean—if you’re open to hearing about them.”

“I’m all ears,” Daryl said. “But...we do gotta be up early tomorrow. They’ll be beatin’ on our fuckin’ door with the sun.” 

Carol nodded.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Carol said. “But—what if I went to start us a shower? Just to relax...I mean.”

Daryl captured her lips with his.

“I’d say—I’m more’n ready to relax with you. I’ll bring us the last of them beers.”

Carol smiled and pulled away.

“I’ll get the water started,” she said with a wink.


	41. Chapter 41

AN: Here we are, another chapter. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl’s experience with women in the morning was even more limited than his experience with them any other time of the day. In Daryl’s experience, women typically left in the morning. They usually left after dressing quickly, and they preferred to leave just before Daryl was ready to get out of bed. Sometimes they left a note: some quick ‘thank you’ scribbled on a cocktail napkin or something equally as crass, but often they left nothing. Sometimes it had been easy for Daryl to ask himself if they’d ever really even been there. 

There were a few whose names he never even bothered to recall.

Even Livvy, whom Daryl had wanted to stay, was never there when Daryl woke in the morning. Of course, they’d spent relatively few nights together before the relationship—which was only a relationship to Daryl—had dissolved entirely like a handful of sugar in a pitcher of hot water. 

At least when Livvy had left for good, she’d taken the time to tell Daryl that she wasn’t coming back instead of scribbling it on a cocktail napkin. The difference between her goodbye and other goodbyes, was that hers had come with the promise that Daryl would live up to being exactly what his old man had predicted he would live up to being—not too damn much of anything. 

Certainly he wouldn’t live up to being the kind of man that he wanted to be, and he wouldn’t live up to being the kind of man that was fit for being a husband for someone like Livvy.

When Daryl woke up, though, Carol was still there. In fact, it was Carol who woke Daryl with a few soft kisses. She’d nuzzled him awake. He’d never really seen any woman quite that way, and he was amazed to see Carol that way. She was smiling and sleepy. Her face was stripped of makeup and her eyes were slightly swollen with sleep. She looked different. Maybe she looked more inviting than she ever had before—something which would be difficult since Daryl was pretty sure she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. 

She woke him early to ask if he’d be interested in making good use of one of their remaining condoms before the call came that would tell them that they were expected to be up and getting ready. She didn’t have to ask Daryl twice. He certainly wasn’t interested in making her beg and, perhaps, risking that she might feel like he wasn’t enthusiastic about her request. 

The sex that followed had been Carol’s idea from start to finish, but Daryl wasn’t complaining about her choices. It had been quiet and calm and really quite nice—even if it was unlike anything that Daryl had ever experienced. It wasn’t exciting, he was sure, in the traditional sense. It wasn’t the kind of sex that he’d have sat around bragging about at the Chambers. 

It was really more the kind that he preferred to simply keep between the two of them, but he’d enjoyed it immensely. Carol had come to him, backing up to him to fit her body against his, and she’d thrown her leg over his to open herself to him. He had held her, and buried his face in her neck, while they’d rocked together in a sweaty tangle of limbs and sheets.

It wasn’t the type of sex his brothers boasted about—the type that had them practically swinging from the ceiling. It had been gentle and easy. It had fit perfectly with the relaxed feeling of the morning and with the sleep that still clouded Daryl’s head and showed on Carol’s face.

Honestly, it had been one of the simplest and best experiences of Daryl’s life. 

 

When they had finished, Carol still didn’t leave. She lie in bed with Daryl, cuddling against him and kissing him at intervals. They might have stayed there all day if the front desk hadn’t called and interrupted their lazy morning. 

Daryl had cursed his brother and the whole damn club under his breath when the phone had sounded the alarm for them to leave their bed behind.

Dragged out of bed, they showered quickly together, occasionally exchanging touches as they traded places under the spray of water and laughed over the sometimes difficult maneuvers that had to be made by both of them to move around in the small motel bathtub. They dressed quickly, and Carol painted on the same type of makeup that she’d worn the night before. Daryl waited for her, as well, while she fixed her hair. This time, she didn’t complain about her hair and she didn’t cry her makeup off. 

She asked Daryl to put her bracelet back on her wrist, and she kept offering him sincere smiles as she slipped into Andrea’s leather jacket. Daryl grabbed his cut and his keys on his way out the motel room, and he slipped into his cut while Carol locked the door. 

Outside, the world was barely starting to come awake. Daryl made his way over to his bike, opened up one of the saddlebags, and rearranged a few items in there to make room for Carol's small purse. When he closed the saddlebag, he helped himself to a cigarette and offered one to Carol. She accepted it and stood beside him smoking it and watching as his brothers started to slowly come out of the motel rooms around them. Many of the rooms would offer up just one brother. Others offered up brothers and their old ladies. Others, still, offered up a brother that had come alone, but hadn’t slept alone. Some of the women that came slinking out of those motel rooms—picked up the night before at some bar or another—might decide to hang around for the day. Others would simply try to slink away and disappear before the sun came up and shined a light on their sins.

As the brothers came filing out and started to look alive, Daryl and Carol spoke to a few, but there was only one that made a direct line for Daryl. Merle was wearing a shit-eating grin on his face as he approached them, and Daryl didn’t miss the quick head-to-toe glance he gave Carol, but he didn’t actually say anything that embarrassed either one of them. Daryl was thankful for little things. 

 

“Got a call from Ty,” Merle said, walking up and lighting his own cigarette. “Said him and Michonne got everything squared away that she had to do an’ they found someone to keep they girls. They ain’t gonna make the ride this morning, but they said they’d find us downtown later at the vendors.” 

“They got a room?” Daryl asked. 

“You know Michonne,” Merle said. “She ain’t liked this place. Got them a room somewhere downtown.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Musta cost them somethin’ to stay there,” Daryl said. 

Merle hummed.

“You know her,” was all Merle said in response. 

Daryl nodded and laughed to himself. 

“I do,” he said. 

“Figure we give everybody another fifteen minutes to get their shit together,” Merle said. “Then we’re headin’ downtown. We seen it last night. This place is fuckin’ packed an’ I want everybody stayin’ together. They’s a damn buncha MCs here an’ I don’t want to run the risk that nobody runs into nobody else that they can’t get along with. I’d prefer we all just stick together. We’re tryin’ to get through the weekend without a single damn soul gettin’ arrested for some stupid shit.”

“I hear ya, brother,” Daryl said. “We’ll stay together.” 

Merle greeted Carol, but he didn’t say anything else to her. His ‘good mornin’’ was just that. He smiled at Daryl, after he greeted Carol, but he didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t going to embarrass Daryl in front of Carol. Not right now. When they were alone, and when he had the opportunity, Daryl already knew that his brother was going to give him hell about the night before—but he wasn’t going to do it in front of Carol. He simply walked away and left the two of them alone again.

“I don’t think I’ve met Michonne,” Carol said. “Have I?” 

“If you had, you’d know,” Daryl assured her. “You wouldn’t have to ask if you did. Still, you ain’t had no reason nor no place to meet her. She tends to avoid the Chambers like we got the bubonic plague most the time. You know Ty, though. She’s his ole lady. They been together about a year. She’s got two kids. Two lil’ girls. They like two an’ three years old. Neither one of ‘em’s Ty’s, but he’d sure like ‘em to be, so we don’t draw too much attention to the fact that they got them another daddy. He ain’t worth much, anyway, and we all know that blood don’t mean that much if there ain’t no real heart pumpin’ it.” 

Carol laughed to herself. She knew well what Daryl was talking about. Biology was just a technicality. It didn’t mean someone was even worth their salt. 

“She doesn’t like the MC?” Carol asked, choosing not to discuss the father of Michonne’s children in any more detail. “Is that why she avoids the Chambers?” 

“It just ain’t her scene, I guess,” Daryl said. “She’s still gettin’ used to it. She’s good at coverin’ up her feelings, but I think it makes her nervous. Hell—she’s still gettin’ used to Ty. The man she was with really fucked her feelings over good. Made her so she don’t really trust Ty not to do the same. He’s got a lot to overcome, you know? So she can trust him, I mean. She’s a lawyer. Works with Andrea. That’s how they met, actually. Michonne and Ty, I mean. It was Andrea that introduced them. Back to what you was really askin’, I don’t think Michonne has a problem with the club, but she ain’t all in, either. A lot of the brothers drive her nuts. She gets annoyed with ‘em. She don’t come too often to rallies and such. Ty tends to come alone. She musta decided, though, to come to this one. You gonna like her.”

“I’m not sure it sounds like I will,” Carol ventured.

Daryl laughed.

“Maybe I just ain’t good at describing people in a flattering light. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. She’s good people. You just gotta get used to her—and she’s gotta get used to you. Besides, Michonne’s a good one to show you that there’s all kinds of ole ladies. It’s like what Merle says—whoever you’re with is like your bike.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carol asked, raising an eyebrow at Daryl. Daryl laughed in response. He shrugged his shoulders.

“You ride what suits you,” he said with a snort.

“I don't know if that's a nice sentiment, or insulting,” Carol said. 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Not meant to be insulting,” Daryl assured her. “It’s just meant to say that it's not my place to tell anybody what they oughta like. It's up to every brother to decide what he likes for himself. Alice too—even though we don’t often make no distinction between her an’ any other brother. Sometimes we call her a sister, but most the time, honestly, we forget. It’s like—Michonne might not be for everybody, but she’s just Ty’s style. He knows what he likes. She makes him happy an’ that’s all that really matters there. If he’s willin’ to put up with her little idiosyncrasies because she makes him happy, then it sure ain’t me that’s gonna tell him not to.” 

Carol smiled at him.

“What?” He asked.

“Idiosyncrasies?” Carol asked. 

“You surprised or somethin’?” Daryl asked.

“I am,” Carol admitted. “A little bit.”

“You think I was illiterate or something?” Daryl asked.

“No,” Carol said. “I just—don’t think I’ve really ever heard too many people say ‘idiosyncrasies’ in everyday conversation.”

“I got a decent vocabulary,” Daryl offered. “I like to read,” he added after a second.

Carol smiled at him. 

“I’m glad,” Carol said. “Maybe we could—start a book club or something. At least that’s probably the type of club that I could join.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Now you just bein’ an asshole,” he offered. 

Carol laughed. 

“So—Ty’s type is Michonne. And Merle’s type is Andrea. And maybe Alice’s type is Sadie. But there are a lot of brothers here...”

“And they all got different types,” Daryl offered. “Some of these brothers are in it for the long haul, but some ain’t—they like somethin’ that don’t last that long. Some last for a day. They like variety. You gonna see it around here. If they lookin’ for some variety, this is the place to find it. But a lot of the women around here don’t really like the MCs—not for real. They just like the idea of it. They come to the rallies lookin’ for a short term boyfriend. They wantin’ to be an old lady for a day and then they wantin’ to leave it all behind ‘em. It’s like they like the idea of havin’ someone who would piss off their parents, but they don’t wanna keep ‘em long enough to actually piss off their parents.”

“And some of the brothers are looking for that?” Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. 

“Some of ‘em don’t care,” Daryl said. “A piece of ass for the weekend is a piece of ass. A piece of strange, at that.”

Carol nodded her head. She hesitated a moment, and then she spoke. Her words made Daryl’s stomach twist like it was considering turning inside out.

“And is that your interest?” Carol asked. “A weekend piece of ass? A weekend piece of—strange?” 

Daryl swallowed. He shook his head.

“Ain’t never been,” he said. “Thought maybe you knew.”

Carol hummed. 

“But then—would most of these brothers tell the women that’s what they were after?” Carol asked. 

Daryl understood the sentiment. He understood it wholeheartedly and he didn’t take it personally at all. The same insecurities, of which she was only letting him catch a quick glance, gnawed at him too. 

He licked his lips.

“Would most of the women tell the brothers that’s all they was after?” He challenged. 

The corners of Carol’s mouth turned up gently. She understood him, too. 

“Maybe some of them would,” Carol said. “Those who valued honesty. Being open.”

“I’ve always been honest,” Daryl said. “And I’ve never been accused of bein’ too good at hiding my feelings.” 

“So it’s not just a weekend thing,” Carol said, this time narrowing her eyes at him and smirking. She was teasing him. Daryl couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“I hope not, unless it’s gonna be a helluva long weekend,” Daryl said. He cleared his throat. “If it makes any difference at all—this here is the first bike I ever bought. It’s the only one that’s ever belonged just to me. Somethin’ breaks, I fix it. Practically reworked the whole thing from frame to finish. Suits me just fine, and I ain’t really got no interest in lookin’ for a new one.”

Carol smiled at him and raised her eyebrows.

“It’s a nice bike,” she offered. “I don’t hate the sentiment, either.”


	42. Chapter 42

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol felt overwhelmed. The sheer volume of bodies and bikes was suffocating. The sound of so many engines, some much louder than others, and the din of people yelling over those engines from time to time, rang in her ears. She was thankful that the helmet she was wearing muffled some of the sound, but she was admittedly a little bit jealous of Sadie who sat close to her, for a while, on the back of Alice’s bike as they inched through the crowd. Sadie sat, nonchalantly, and took in all the views around her without wincing at the noise like Carol did. She had no difficulty with the over-stimulation of sound, though Carol couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t at least a bit overwhelmed at the multitude of bodies in such close proximity to each other. 

When they’d reached the place where they would do the morning ride—a parade of sorts—the Judges had slowly made their place in the sea of bikes. Carol had held to Daryl like he was an anchor, and he hadn’t complained about the fact that she was likely holding him a little tighter than was pleasant. Their MC had been joined by quite a few other Judges with slightly different patches on the backs of their cuts—at least on the cuts that Carol could see, since many of them were covered by the women who, like herself, were practically attached to the backs of the men.

There were a great deal of other cuts that sea of bikers. There were different patches, different symbols, and the names of different clubs displayed everywhere Carol looked. Among them, there were also quite a few people who weren't wearing cuts. Carol didn’t know enough about the MCs to know what they were called. Were they civilian bikers? Were they just normal bikers? They were people with no affiliation to any MC. Loaners. Individuals. People who simply enjoyed bikes. There were plenty of them, as well. They rode among the MCs, clearly unbothered by the fact that they held no affiliation with any group. 

When Carol and Daryl ended up temporarily stuck next to one of those bikers, and they’d been idling there long enough for things to start to become awkward, Daryl had somewhat leaned over and spoken to one of the man. They shared some easy and meaningless conversation about the crowd. They laughed and Daryl had complemented the man’s bike. The man had returned the compliment and had offered Carol a smile and a nod of his head. There was an easy comradery among most of the people there, regardless of their affiliations or lack thereof. 

 

Carol remembered what Merle had said to Daryl, though, about wanting the Judges to be careful that they didn't encounter somebody they couldn't stand because they had a goal of saying out of jail for the weekend. It was entirely likely that the easy comradery didn’t exist among all of the bikers that had come to the rally. The problem, of course, was that Carol—being entirely new to the whole situation—had absolutely no way of knowing which bikers fell into which categories. For the time being, she decided to simple keep her head down—or against Daryl’s back where she often rested it—and follow Daryl’s lead. 

 

In fact, she’d decided that was her plan for almost everything that the weekend involved. She would simply follow Daryl’s lead. 

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Carol had enjoyed herself once she relaxed into the morning ride. The drive downtown had taken quite a bit of time, owing mostly to the sheer volume of traffic, but it had been fun to be part of something so big. Overall, it had been uneventful. There were a great deal of police officers around, but nothing had happened that they’d needed to deal with beyond the basic role of directing traffic when the main road intersected a few smaller streets. 

Whenever the ride was finished, the lot of the Judges had made their way to a location which all of them seemed to know they would go to without even stopping to discuss it. It was a bar and restaurant combined, and there was plenty of room for everyone to park their bikes.

Daryl, along with Merle and several of the other brothers, had gone to meet up with some friends from another chapter. They were going to have some kind of conversation—a meeting, perhaps—and they were going to play catch-up for all the time they’d missed seeing each other.

That was when Andrea informed Carol that it was simply time to shop. It was time to move from vendor to vendor, seeing what was on offer. Alice and her companion, Sadie, stayed with Carol and Andrea. Many of the other women who had been part of the ride went off in their own directions. 

It was clear to Carol that many of the old ladies had been here before—and many of the women who were weekend companions for the brothers were locals. They knew where they were, and they knew how they wanted to spend their time.

Carol, for her part, was happy to cling to Andrea as they weaved their way through the large crowds and looked at the biker paraphernalia on offer at the pop-up venues. 

As they walked along, they “window-shopped” when they weren’t bumping their way through the slightly overwhelming crowd. Most of the items on offer were related to bikes and bike culture. Carol touched very few items as they walked, but Andrea stopped at every booth, talked to the people who worked there as though she knew them or would soon know them, and fingered most of their merchandise before she walked away with a smile, a wave, or a small purchase. 

Finally, the sidewalk vendors gave way to a string of sturdy and permanent shop buildings that lined the little town’s main street. The crowd thinned out a little, though still quite a large number of people filled the sidewalk, and Carol continued to follow Andrea to whatever destination she may have in mind. A few feet behind them, taking her time making her way through the crowd, Alice walked and tugged Sadie behind her by the hand while Sadie used her other hand to hold something that she was eating. It was something she’d evidently purchased at one of the sidewalk stalls. 

It didn’t take too long before they got where they were going, and Andrea stopped walking. She pulled open the door to the store and waved Carol inside. 

“This is where we were coming,” Andrea said. She held the door long enough for Carol to step inside and for Alice and Sadie to catch up with them. Carol hadn’t paid much attention to the store as they walked up, but she’d glanced quickly at the outside before she’d stepped through the door. Even a quick glance was enough to tell her that it was a place that specialized in selling leather goods. The smell of the store hit her as she stepped into the door. It confirmed her suspicions. It was a brick-and-mortar store. It was permanent. It probably did a great deal of business throughout the year—since it seemed to have any leather item on offer that anyone might like—but Carol imagined that the rallies like this one offered them up their greatest business of the year. Rallies like this one, honestly, were probably the same thing to the leather store as Christmas was to the local toy stores. 

The store was relatively open, but it was still a little crowded. Still, it wasn’t as crowded as some of the sidewalk booths had been where everyone had been pushing and shoving to get into a very confined space. The store had clearly anticipated a larger-than-usual number of shoppers this weekend and had brought in extra workers, because there was quite a large number of store associates on hand to help anyone who might need some assistance making an expensive purchase. One such individual greeted Carol as soon as she and her friends stepped inside. The door hadn’t even had time to fully close behind them before he staked his claim and made his approach. 

“What can I help you with, ladies?” The man asked.

“Boots,” Andrea said. “And a jacket, too, for this one.” She gestured to Carol and smiled at the man. He looked pleased as he glanced at Alice’s cut and back at Andrea. Carol could tell that he was already counting up his commission in his head—they were bike enthusiasts and they would make some purchases. In case he wasn’t convinced that it was a good idea to give them some attention, Andrea tacked on a little more information. She winked at the man. “I’m our President’s old lady,” Andrea offered. “She’s the Vice President’s old lady—and we thought we’d pick up a couple nice things.” 

“Absolutely,” the man said, his smile broadening. “I’ve got whatever you want. We have an excellent selection. We just had a truck in yesterday. We’ve got some beautiful jackets and our boot selection is the best in town.” 

“That’s just what we’re looking for,” Andrea said. She turned to Carol and demanded her shoe size. Though Carol wanted to argue against everything that was taking place, she felt like she couldn’t. She stammered out her size, and Andrea looked at the man. “Did you get that?” She asked. He nodded.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Any particular styles that you’d like to see first?”

“Have you seen anything you like?” Andrea asked. “While we’ve been out? A style that—catches your attention?”

Carol stammered out some noises, decided not to embarrass herself, and shook her head. Andrea took mercy on her and realized that she probably didn’t know what to say. She raised her eyebrows at Carol.

“Do you like any accessories? Zippers? Buckles? Or do you prefer just—plain?” Andrea asked.

“Buckles,” Carol said, not sure if it came out as a statement or a question. Honestly she wasn’t even sure what she meant for it to be.

“You like buckles?” Andrea asked, somehow keeping her voice from sounding like she was talking to a small child.

Carol nodded.

Andrea turned to the store clerk.

“Let’s see some nice boots,” she said. “With buckles. We’ll browse the jackets.”

“We’ve got a great selection,” he said. “I think I know some she might like. They’ve been a real hit this year. Take your time looking at the jackets. I’ll just get her set up over there with some boots.”

The man disappeared to gather together some boots he thought would interest Carol and, perhaps, might draw the attention of the other ladies. Then they were left to browse through the racks of assorted types of jackets. It was overwhelming. There were so many nice jackets to choose from, and Carol wasn’t sure she’d pick the right one. She said as much and Andrea laughed in response to her concern.

 

“Carol—there’s no such thing as the right and the wrong one. You just pick what you like. It’ll be right for everyone else if it’s right for you.”

Alice and Sadie shopped, as well, while Andrea and Carol rummaged through the jackets. It wasn’t until they were quite alone that Carol addressed Andrea to talk to her about some of her insecurities when it came to making the leather purchases that she was currently contemplating. She leaned in close to Andrea in an effort to make sure that her voice didn’t travel too far. 

“Daryl is insisting on buying me a jacket and boots,” Carol said. 

“Don’t you think I knew that?” Andrea asked. “That’s why we came here. He sent me with you to make the purchase. It’s the nicest place in town. It’s the nicest place for some distance, actually. I love coming here. He asked me this morning to bring you here because he knew you’d find something that was good quality.”

“It’s expensive,” Carol said.

“It’s genuine leather,” Andrea responded. “And it’s well-made merchandise.”

“There was some stuff that was a lot cheaper out there,” Carol informed her.

“And you get what you pay for with a lot of that,” Andrea said. “I can tell quality in a hurry. You want something that’s going to last. It isn’t a bargain if you’re paying less but having to replace it quickly.”

“But look at these price tags,” Carol said.

Andrea laughed to herself. 

“I’m well aware,” she said. “It’s not my first trip here. Relax, Carol. It’s expensive, but it lasts a long time. Unless, of course, road rash eats it up. But, then, in that case, you got your money’s worth out of it when you realize that it's a lot better that the road eats up the leather and not your body.” 

Carol swallowed. The price tags brought her an anxiety that she didn’t want to explain, even if she could. Ed was very greedy with his money. He’d always gotten angry when he had to pay for anything that was solely for her. In fact, he’d been pissed off when the hospital bill for Sophia’s birth had come because he’d seen such a great expense as a way of Carol taking advantage of him. He’d been so wrapped up in the fact that he didn’t like his money going to anyone except himself, that he hadn’t stopped to even think about the fact that their daughter wasn’t something that was solely for Carol—and delivering her safely in a hospital hadn’t been some sort of luxury. 

He’d insisted, after that, that Carol could simply have any future children at home. Carol had been very careful to ensure that there were no other children to come. She’d paid for her birth control out of the little bits of money that she smuggled away from grocery money and such so that Ed would never know about it. 

Carol swallowed down her feelings. 

“I don’t want Daryl feeling like he has to buy things for me,” Carol said. 

Andrea sighed. She furrowed her brow and gave Carol something of a disapproving expression. 

“Carol, I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Andrea said. “Daryl is the kind of man that gives gifts. He's not very good at gift giving, at least not without a little help and some prompting, but he gives gifts. In particular, he likes to give practical gifts. If you need a new set of tires, Daryl will make sure you have them. If your gas tank is on empty, he might just fill up your car to surprise you. If he finds out you like a certain kind of beer, then you can be sure that beer will be in the fridge every time you want it. That's what he does. It's what Dixon men do. Trust me, I know. I’ve spent most of my life with Dixon men. And, sometimes, it leaves a little something to be desired in the way of romance, but that's only until you figure out that taking care of you is the only way that they know how to really be romantic. When, and if, you get the candles in the wine, it's probably because somebody gave them a little nudge. Or, maybe, they saw it on television and it struck them that, perhaps, you would like it as much as the protagonist did. The flowers you get—if you tell him you like flowers—are just as likely to be something he saw growing in a ditch and wanted to share with you as they are to be long-stemmed roses. My point is, Carol, the boots and a jacket are very practical gift. They’re a way of saying you belong. You belong on the back of a bike and, in particular, you belong on the back of Daryl’s bike. That’s where he wants you to be. Daryl’s never had an old lady before, and he’s bound to be a little bit excited. Maybe he’s bound to be a little too excited. At least—as excited as he’s ever going to get since he’s very practical in the way he shows his excitement. So—Carol—I guess what I’m saying is that I’m going to ask you, as a friend, to just—let Daryl have this. Let him have his excitement. Just this one time. Because, maybe, this is the only time that he ever gets to have an old lady for the first weekend ever.” She smiled at Carol and raised her eyebrows. “If he’s lucky—he never has this first again, and he’s really been looking forward to it, in his own way, for so long,” Andrea said. “I’d pay for it myself for you to let him have this. So—will you just—let him have it? Please?”

Carol was struck by Andrea’s words in every way possible. More than that, she was struck by Andrea’s tone of voice. It was completely sincere. There was even some less-than-concealed pleading there. 

This—buying her these things—for whatever reason would truly make Daryl happy. Andrea was practically begging Carol to let Daryl have this. She wanted him to have his happiness—no matter where it was that he found it.

And even though she was still uncomfortable with the idea of so much money being spent on her, Carol recognized the honesty in Andrea’s words.

She would gladly grant Daryl whatever happiness she could.


	43. Chapter 43

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl stood and gnawed at his cuticle while he waited on Carol. He kept glancing at his watch, trying to decide if she’d been in the bathroom too long. He was learning something about her, and that something was that the bathroom was a tricky location. Sometimes she went in there and she came out happy and playful and ready to see him. Other times she went in there and came out practically soggy from her tears.

They would be going out soon—the entire MC. She was changing clothes and preparing to show him the new purchases that she’d made. He was hoping this was one time when she came out happy, but he was mentally preparing for soggy, just in case.

When he thought she’d been in there long enough to change her clothes, he ventured to knock quietly at the door.

“You OK?” He asked. “You need somethin’?” 

“I’m fine,” Carol called back. 

Daryl’s stomach clenched, afraid that her voice would confirm that she was sobbing, but it relaxed immediately when his brain told him that she did, indeed, sound fine. 

“You—comin’ outta there? Can I give you hand or—somethin’?” Daryl asked.

There was laughter from inside, and the laughter did a bit more to steady Daryl’s nerves. It wasn’t nervous laughter and it wasn’t muffled by sobs. Carol was genuinely laughing and was, therefore, probably feeling fine. 

“Go away from the door,” Carol called. “I want—I want to be able to come out. I want to show you what I got.”

“You got it,” Daryl responded. He walked into the motel room and waited. Carol stepped out of the bathroom a moment later. 

She’d been shopping with Andrea, Alice, and Sadie. Daryl had only seen her purchases in boxes and bags because she’d loaded them into the van when he’d come to pick her up and she’d unloaded them when Nellie reached the motel with the van. He hadn’t inspected them thoroughly. 

Now she was, apparently, wearing what she’d purchased.

Carol was wearing the same pair of jeans that she always seemed to wear—something that made Daryl wonder if she had another pair of those jeans or if he might try to find out what they were, since she obviously liked them a great deal. She was wearing a shirt that he was pretty sure belonged to Andrea because he’d seen it before—a little white tank-top that was silky. She was wearing, also, a pair of black leather boots that were covered with buckles and a black leather jacket that fit her well. 

She smiled at him, her hands in the pocket of the jacket, and held the sides of the jacket out. 

“Well?” She asked. “What do you think?” She did a little turn in a circle and smiled at him when she was facing him again.

Daryl swallowed and nodded his head.

“Is it what you wanted?” He asked.

“Does that mean you don’t like?” Carol asked with her brow furrowed, her smile dropping.

“I like it just fine,” Daryl said. “But I ain’t the one wearin’ it, so I was thinkin’ that it was more important that it was you that liked it.”

“I picked them out,” Carol said. “The boots and the jacket—and they were all more expensive than I wanted them to be.”

“That don’t matter,” Daryl said.

“Because body men make more money than they know what to do with?” Carol challenged.

“Because I’ve never been in the habit of spendin’ a great deal of the money I make,” Daryl said. “So—yeah, I got more’n enough to spend a little here an’ there on somethin’ that matters to me.”

“You paid for them,” Carol said. “I want to know that—you like them.”

Daryl laughed to himself. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“It makes you feel better if I just say I like ‘em?” He asked. Carol nodded her head. “Alice told me that—women don’t always like it when you tell ‘em that you like the way they look. Sometimes they want’cha to...I guess not think about it or not let ‘em know that’s what you thinkin’ about.” 

Carol nodded her head thoughtfully, not fully committing to the action.

“Maybe that’s true,” she said. “Sometimes...”

“But it ain’t really fair to ask me to know when sometimes is and when it ain’t,” Daryl pointed out. “I don’t read minds. I can go one way or I can the other, but I can’t know when you want me to go right or left unless you givin’ me directions.”

Carol raised her eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually a really good point,” she said. “What if—we just assume that...maybe...for a while...I need you to tell me what you’re thinking because I do like knowing that you like the way I look?”

“How do I know when the little while’s over?” Daryl asked.

Carol smiled.

“What if—I tell you? If it’s ever over...”

“You got a deal,” Daryl said. “Just—one more thing.”

“What’s that?” Carol asked.

“Just how damn honest do you want me to be? Like Merle level honest or...?” Daryl asked.

“Like Daryl level honest,” Carol offered.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“OK,” he agreed. “Then I think you look fuckin’ hot an’ if I didn’t think it would probably be inappropriate and might piss you the hell off, then I’d say that we got a good half hour and that oughta be plenty of time that we could take advantage of how fuckin’ good you look now.”

Carol’s cheeks ran pink, but she smiled sincerely. Daryl laughed to himself. He’d half-expected such a thing to get him a slap across the face, but Carol looked more than a little pleased over what he’d said. She stood a little straighter and Daryl noticed that she pushed her shoulders back, forcing her breasts out a bit more. She cocked her eyebrow at him.

“With a half hour,” she teased, “we could probably take advantage of things like...three or four times.”

She laughed to herself and Daryl frowned at her.

“That was a low blow,” Daryl said.

“I’m just teasing,” she said. She walked over to him and touched his face before she offered him a kiss on the jaw. “But if you don’t want me to tease, or if it’s off limits, then just tell me.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. She smelled like herself and new leather. And if she was paying any attention at all to his body, she knew that even her teasing hadn’t lessened his interest. 

“I don’t care,” he said. “Just—so long as you don’t bust my balls about it in front of—ya know—my brothers.”

“Never,” Carol responded. “But—if you wanted to, you could feel free to tell them how hot you think I am.” 

Daryl laughed to himself when her body shook with her own laughter. She nipped at his ear lobe and he shivered. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. 

“What do you want?” Carol asked. “Show me what you want.”

Daryl nodded at her. He pulled away from her enough to retrieve one of the condoms and the bottle that he’d brought with him. Carol watched him, arms crossed across her chest, as he moved them to the table. He shook the table, testing its sturdiness. It wiggled, but it wasn’t really going anywhere. Daryl swallowed and looked at her. She was wearing a smirk, but nothing about her expression said she disapproved of anything so far. Daryl held his hand out to her and she came over. He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“You sure?” He asked.

Carol nodded her head.

“I think so,” she said.

Daryl laughed to himself. He slipped his hands into the band of her jeans and popped the button. She thrust her hips forward like she wanted to make it easier for him. He unzipped her jeans, caught her underwear, and worked both down her legs, bending down to make sure they made it as far down as he could work them. 

“Do you want me to take the boots off?” Carol asked.

“I think we can work around it,” Daryl said, stopping just a second to inhale her scent on his way back up from pushing down her pants. He resisted the urge to taste her, not sure if she would be interested in such a thing at the moment, and straightened up. “Just let me know when you ain’t sure no more...I don’t do real damn good at readin’ minds. Like I told you.” 

Carol simply nodded at him. She watched him as he turned her around. He guided her to put her hands on the table, but it didn’t take much before she figured out what he wanted and she changed her position a little to make herself more comfortable. She waited, patiently, while Daryl put a condom on. She moaned at him when he used his fingers to stroke her and spread the cool jelly on her body. When he leaned against her, though, to kiss the back of her neck and the side of her face, he could practically feel the tension radiating out of her body.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, keeping his voice low as though they could be overheard by whatever demons he could practically feel watching over their shoulders.

“It’s an easy position for...things you don’t want,” Carol said. “When you’re not—when you don’t want them.”

Instead of entering her like he wanted, Daryl reached his hand around and found her clit. He worked it with his fingers and she backed into him, her body demanding more of his attention. She moved her hands and held onto the table. Daryl didn’t take any more liberties than those he already had. He focused on simply working the nub beneath his fingers as he listened to the sounds of her responses to his touch. He slipped his other arm around her only to hold her up if she might find that she needed more support than the wobbly table had to offer. 

When she shook, the shaking accompanied by a strangled choking sound, Daryl was pretty sure that it wasn’t her anxiety that was causing the tremors. 

Daryl leaned against her. He kept his voice low.

“Nothin’ you don’t want,” Daryl said. “Promise. But—I gotta take care of this one way or another. You want me to leave you or...can I come in?” 

Carol laughed to herself. She was panting, but her response was to change her position so that she spread her legs as far as she could and leaned over the table. Daryl nearly reached his end right then and there just from seeing her voluntarily assume that position. He pushed into her and her sensitivity and the lingering effects of her orgasm made her walls close in on him and pulse around him.

“Shit...” he breathed out. “Shit...shit...you’re killin’ me. Fuck—an’ you got me on some kinda damn lockdown.”

Carol breathed out a dramatic breath and backed into him. She relaxed around him and Daryl allowed himself to move. He held onto the table, hoping to make sure that he didn’t cause her any discomfort. She moved in response, meeting him with every thrust. 

This time, he knew that she came. He felt her muscles responding to him and he heard the undeniable sounds of animalistic pleasure as they escaped her. 

He laughed, too, at the general wobbly nature of Carol’s legs as she stood holding onto the table after they’d finished. He told her to stay where she was and she didn’t question him. He hobbled his way to the bathroom to clean up and fix his pants. When he came back with the washcloth from the bathroom and cleaned her up, she smiled at him over her shoulder.

“You think of everything?” She asked.

“I think this shit gets everywhere,” Daryl said, referencing the lube. “Works good, but it’s messy as hell. Didn’t figure you wanted it squishin’ around in your damn drawers all night.”

Carol turned around and thanked him with kiss. He liked the thanks, and he requested a second as she pulled away from him. She gladly gave it to him—not worrying about the fact that she hadn’t even taken the time to restore her pants to their proper location.

“It still will,” Carol said. “Unfortunately. But it’s something I’m willing to deal with.”

“Why?” Daryl asked. “I cleaned it up.”

“Gravity,” Carol said with a laugh. When Daryl raised his eyebrow at her, she moved to fix her pants. “Just think about it for a little while,” she offered. “When do we need to leave?” 

“Anytime now,” Daryl said. “Just waitin’ on a call. I got a feelin’ Merle is stallin’ things, though.” He returned the soiled washrag to the bathroom. Carol followed him. He washed his hands when he rinsed out the rag and left it on the edge of the sink.

“He knew we’d come back here,” Carol said. She smiled at Daryl. “Maybe he wanted us to take advantage of the down time before we all go out.”

“Or he’s takin’ advantage of it,” Daryl said.

“I wouldn’t deny him that, either,” Carol offered. “I have to use the restroom...”

Daryl nodded at her and stepped out to allow her the privacy that she wanted. In the bedroom, Daryl lit a cigarette and went through his pockets in search of the small paper bag he’d brought with him. He opened it and dumped the contents into his hand. When Carol stepped out, smiling at him with fresh lip gloss on, he smiled at her.

“I got’cha somethin’ else while I was out,” he said, holding out his hand.

She shook her head, her smile falling.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to buy me things,” Carol said.

“I told you I don’t,” Daryl said. 

“It makes me uncomfortable,” Carol said.

Daryl’s stomach caught.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Daryl said. “But—I like it. So it makes me kinda...sad, I guess...to know you don’t want me to give you what I wanta give you.”

“Maybe just—not so much?” Carol asked. “Not all at once?” 

“Last thing,” Daryl said. “I promise. Just...” He stood up and offered her what he was holding. “It’s nothin’ really. Just...”

She took it, finally, and smiled to herself when she uncoiled it. She raised an eyebrow at him when she’d fully uncoiled the silver chain.

“Thought a necklace might be better,” Daryl said. “Hindsight. It’s a thicker chain. Sturdy so you don’t gotta worry. Easier for you take on and off when you want...”

“Who told you to do this?” Carol asked with a smirk.

“It was just me,” Daryl said. He laughed to himself. “Because you was worried about losin’ the charms. But if you don’t like it...I can blame it on Andrea.”

“I love it,” Carol said.

“Then it was all me,” Daryl offered. 

“Thank you,” Carol said. “I’ll wear it out.” She offered her wrist to Daryl. “Will you take it off? Just so I can move the charms?”

“Of course,” Daryl said, removing the bracelet. “As long as—you pay me back with somethin’.” 

“What do you want?” Carol asked.

“I reckon a kiss might do the trick,” Daryl said. 

Carol smiled.

“It just so happens, I’ve got a few to spare,” she said.


	44. Chapter 44

AN: I won’t apologize for my absence every time I’m able to pop back in because it’s the same thing every time. I promise that I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m simply drowning in real life these days and I write when I get the chance. I know that it’s not often (and I wish it were much more often), but I do appreciate you continuing to read. Even when I’m not writing, I reread your kindnesses and they make bad days a lot better! I’m sorry I’m not putting much out for you to read. I hope things slow down eventually.

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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The air was cool, and Carol snuggled into Daryl’s back as he navigated the crowd. She’d thought that they’d seen the largest of the crowd that morning, but clearly the nightlife held a whole different experience for her. They waded through people, finally broke free of the crowd, and then rode some distance from the town where they were staying. Everyone in the entire club seemed to know where they were going, and Carol enjoyed the momentary break from being in the vast sea of bikers. Out on the small stretch of road, she was surrounded only by bikers that were wearing cuts she knew. She found, oddly enough, a sensation of familiar among those that she would have only recently counted as strangers.

The freedom from the crowd didn’t last for too long, though. When they pulled off the highway, it was to pull into a veritable herd of bikers not far from the exit. All of them were headed for the same roadside bar that didn’t look to be that much bigger than the Chambers. Rather than try to park their bikes in the already crowded parking lot, and rather than wait in line to even reach the entrance to the parking lot, the Judges followed Merle a short distance away where he led them into a lot that was a great deal emptier.

As soon as the engines were killed, Carol followed suit and got off the back of Daryl’s bike as the other women relinquished their seats. Daryl adjusted the bike, got off of it, and hung his helmet over the handlebar before he reached for Carol’s helmet.

“Crow’s Nest lookin’ full tonight, brother,” Wren, one of the older members of the club, commented as he walked over to join Daryl and Merle. 

“Full every night,” Merle said. “Them Pirates don’t never sleep.”

“Full of Saviors, too,” Wren said. 

Daryl hummed in agreement.

“I seen the cuts ridin’ in.”

“I seen at least twenty cuts ridin’ in from every club in our area,” Merle said. “It’s damn near a family reunion. Same as every year.” 

“The place is crawling with Saviors, man,” Tyreese offered, approaching them. Behind him, the woman that Carol had barely had the time to meet—Michonne—stood waiting with Andrea. The furrowed brow that both of them wore told her more about these Saviors than she might have guessed on her own. 

Merle simply laughed to himself and shook his head.

“As always, Ty, you just about ten minutes late to this conversation an’ you comin’ with some obvious shit we already knowed. Listen—we ain’t never let the Saviors or anybody else stop us from doin’ what the hell we damn well pleased an’ they ain’t stoppin’ us tonight. I seen some Angels headin’ in there too, but that don’t mean I’ma pussy up an’ head back to town ‘fore I’m ready. Balls up, boys—keep your hands to yourself. An’ if you like ‘em, you better tag ‘em.” 

Carol stood there listening as some last bit of conversation was shared, but then it seemed that the decision had been made. Nobody was explaining what was going on, and she bit her tongue for a moment and simply stuck close to Daryl. He opened his saddle bag, took out a leather vest, and thrust it in her direction. A quick glance told her that Merle and every other Judge who had brought a woman with them was doing something similar.

“What’s this?” Carol asked.

Slowly she found herself surrounded by Andrea, Michonne, and Sadie as everyone started to bunch together.

“Property vests,” Daryl said.

“What?” Carol asked.

She held the vest up and examined it. It looked a greater deal like one of the cuts that the bikers were wearing, but the patch said “Property” in bold letters on the front and back. 

Carol frowned at it. Sadie, too, was frowning at her vest. Michonne and Andrea were already putting theirs on.

“I’m sorry,” was all that Daryl offered before he started to walk forward to join his brothers and make some kind of path for all of them to follow.

“It’s not a flattering sentiment,” Andrea said. “Believe me, I know. But—it’s a safety precaution. The Pirates can get a little rough and the Crow’s Nest is a rougher place than the Chambers. The crowds that are coming in tonight don’t always have the same kind of code as the Judges. We’re dealing with a lot of different clubs coming together and that’s not always a good thing. The vests basically tell everyone that’s not part of the Judges that—well—that we’re spoken for. It’s a sort of way to say ‘hands off’ at a glance.” 

Carol accepted that this was just another piece of Judge Culture that she was going to have to get used to and she put the vest on. Sadie had missed much of Andrea’s speech and, therefore, Andrea calmly repeated it for Sadie’s benefit before she helped the woman on with the vest that she’d been examining as though it had been made entirely out of well-aged roadkill.

“They’re a rough crowd?” Carol asked.

“Can be,” Andrea said. “Just stick with us. Stay with the people you know. You’ll be fine.”

Carol shook her head at Andrea.

“Rough—how?” She asked, her stomach churning a little.

“If anything you don’t like happens, you just let one of the Judges know,” Andrea said. She offered Carol the best reassuring smile she could. She raised her eyebrows at Carol. “You’re wearing the Vice Prez’s property patch. If anybody puts his hand on you, he knows he’s got a good chance of wearing it home around his neck like a good luck charm.” She winked her eye at Carol. “You’re going to be fine.”

The club members had walked off from them, but they were only a few feet away. A few of them were chatting and smoking. A few others seemed to be watching the bar from the short distance that separated them from the bikers that were trickling inside. Daryl kept glancing in their direction, but nobody was rushing them to come. Rather, they were simply spending a little time in the parking lot and giving everyone the time that they wanted to get ready to walk the short distance to the bar.

Carol shook her head at Andrea. 

“I really don’t want to go in there if something’s going to happen,” Carol said.

“There’s a good chance that nothing happens,” Andrea assured her. “This area is crawling with cops. You can’t see them right now, but I guarantee you that they’re everywhere. They know how things get at bars like the Crow’s Nest on weekends like this. They’re ready for it. They plan for it all year. There are probably a dozen cops in this general area. If something breaks out, they’re here in a hurry. Besides—most every person in there doesn’t want to ruin their weekend with a trip to jail. They aren’t going to fight unless it really means something to them. The vests keep things from starting up. A lot of drunk bikers can get kind of handsy. They don’t know us and we don’t know them. They don’t know who is somebody’s old lady and who’s a little cherry tart looking to give it away for the weekend. The vests are a semi-unflattering way to separate the ‘us’ from the ‘them’ for easy reference.”

“If we’re going to be honest,” Michonne offered, breaking her long silence, “it’s the women that you have to watch out for more than the men.” 

“Why’s that?” Carol asked. She glanced at Sadie. With her mouth partially open and her brow furrowed like she was preparing to protest at any moment, Sadie followed the conversation as best she could. Carol wondered how much she was truly getting, but she seemed like she knew enough. She hadn’t interrupted them yet to let them know that she needed information. 

Michonne laughed and had something of a short and silent conversation with Andrea. The two seemed more than capable of only using their eyes to communicate with one another and, when the conversation was done, it was clear that they’d decided that Michonne should be the one to continue speaking.

“Because all those cherry tarts that are going to be in there are going to be looking for someone to take them for a ride—literally and figuratively. Most of them have no morals and they’ve got no scruples. They don’t care if he’s married or otherwise claimed. They’ll practically rub it on him right in front of you to try and get him interested in a taste.”

“And loyal or not,” Andrea added quickly, “it’s still going to get at least a little interest. And it’s still going to make your blood boil.” 

Michonne laughed to herself. 

“It’ll make you want to strangle them,” she said.

“And some of the old ladies are just as bad,” Andrea said. “It can get to be a competition in being catty and cunty.”

“Why?” Carol asked.

Another short and silent conversation passed between Michonne and Andrea. This time it was Andrea that seemed to win the right to speak.

“Most of the time it’s insecurity,” Andrea said. “Maybe it’s too many older ladies feeling insecure around everybody else. Maybe it’s that not every woman in there can trust her man and—even if you can trust him—eyes sometimes wander for a minute and it gets you stirred up. It’s just the perfect breeding ground for some good, old-fashioned bitchiness.”

Sadie made a scoffing sound and crinkled her nose at Carol. Carol realized that the woman must be doing a pretty good job of following along because she looked disgusted by the whole thing. She shook her head and made a disapproving sound, but she never put actual words to her dislike of the whole situation. 

“I don’t know if I want to go in there,” Carol admitted. She shook her head. “Maybe I’d be just as happy to stay out here. I don’t want to—I don’t want to end up in some kind of fight with someone. And I don’t want to deal with bikers that don’t have the same code as the Judges.”

Andrea smiled at her.

“You’ll go in there,” she said. “And it’ll be fine. This whole thing? It’s just a show, Carol. That’s all it is. An act. The more you’re around them, the more you realize that the bikers—they’re just little boys. Every last one of them. If they tangle up and fight, they’re just boys fighting in the schoolyard. The women, too, are just overgrown little girls being catty bitches over something ridiculous. This is just a show, Carol. It’s just a game. We’re all in it, and we’re all playing. It’s just about confidence.” 

“What if I don’t have a lot of that spare?” Carol asked sincerely. “I’m still—I’m still working on finding that. Building it up. Ed didn’t exactly leave me with an overabundance.”

“Then you fake it,” Andrea said. “And the more you fake it, the more you feel it. Just remember—no matter what happens or how you get to feeling—Daryl picked you. And that’s saying a lot because that vest? He’s had it in his saddle bag for as long as I can remember, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen it come out. That’s why it looks as new as it does. If you start to feel uncomfortable or you doubt yourself, then you just glance down at it. Instead of taking it as something that’s insulting, take it as something that’s meant to flatter you—because even if the boys don’t know how to do it well, that’s what they’re trying to do.” 

Before Carol could agree to what Andrea had said or protest against it, there was the sound of crunching gravel echoing up from the ground as Daryl came walking back toward them with heavy steps. The night was closing in around them and Carol shivered at the chill that came with the setting of the sun. The smell of Daryl’s cigarette reached them before he did.

“You gals comin’ or...?” He asked, never finishing the question.

“We’re right behind you,” Andrea said. “Just—having a little girl talk.”

“Everythin’ OK?” Daryl asked.

“It’s fine,” Andrea assured him. “We’re right behind you.”

Daryl cleared his throat, glanced at Carol, and nodded before he turned and headed back toward his brother. When he reached Merle, some words were exchanged between them that Carol couldn’t hear and Merle whistled. The sound moved the caravan forward and everyone started walking toward the bar that was steadily being filled by a trickle of bikers and old ladies.

“Come on, ladies,” Andrea commanded—her own form of whistling for them like Merle had for the brothers. On second thought, she added the wave of her hand, with just a simple flick of her wrist, for Sadie’s benefit. “Shoulders back and chins up—you’re the Judges’ Old Ladies now.”


	45. Chapter 45

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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They barely made it inside the bar before Carol understood exactly what Andrea and Michonne had meant by “cherry tarts.” There seemed to be far more women packed into the tight space than bikers. Some of the women wore vests that were similar to the ones that Carol and her new companions were wearing, but many others didn’t.

There appeared to be an over-abundance of young—very young, in fact—women in the bar who roamed around without vests and sat on the laps of men that Carol would have thought were old enough to be their fathers or grandfathers. 

It made Carol a little sad to see the painted up faces of the young women—so young that she almost felt it was wrong to call some of them women and not merely girls—but she also felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. She could understand some of the insecurities that had been mentioned. She didn’t feel prepared to compete with any of the little cherry tarts if she was asked to compete in youth and innocent beauty.

Her life had been too long and, honestly, too hard for that. 

These so-called tarts had barely seen life at all. They were, at this point, simply playing at knowing about life.

And, for a moment, Carol’s stomach twisted as she watched Andrea making her way through the crowd toward the front of the bar. Twenty years would have left her no older than these girls when Merle first laid his claim on her. Had she been a cherry tart herself? Did they make her insecure because she knew that twenty years made a difference?

These were questions, of course, that Carol wasn’t going to ask there. She may ask them someday, but this wasn’t the time or the place. And, rather than stoke the fire of someone else’s insecurities, Carol needed to put her energy into dealing with some of her own. 

Before they’d even gotten in the door, a flock of the young women had descended on the Judges and Carol realized that she didn’t care for the realization that none of the men were wearing anything like the vests to mark them as off-limits to these women. She wasn’t even sure, though, that these women would have paid any such markings attention. They almost seemed ravenous as they descended on the men, each of them clearly determined to win her mark by the end of the evening.

Something on Carol’s face must have given her away, because she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Michonne.

“If you’re going to pick a fight,” Michonne said calmly, “then make sure it’s one of the cherry tarts and not an old lady. Just a piece of advice.” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I’m not going to pick a fight,” Carol assured her. 

“Sometimes it’s good for the soul,” Michonne said. “Good for the reputation, too. I’ve seen Andrea break a few noses when the situation called for it. You just have to be smart about it. Avoid the Old Ladies. If they’re wearing a vest, keep your hands off unless there’s no way to avoid it. If you take on one of those, then it’ll get personal between the bikers and all hell breaks loose. Also, another word to the wise is make sure you can get the upper hand. If you know you’re not going to win it, try not to start it.” 

“Solid advice,” Carol said with a laugh. “I’ve never been in a situation where it was me doing the hitting, though. Admittedly, it’s always been me getting hit.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Michonne said. “Of course the best advice is to avoid violence. Turn the other cheek and look the other way and all that. But if it can’t be avoided—break a nose if you have to.”

Carol laughed to herself, not sure if she found Michonne’s words truly humorous or if they simply made her anxious. 

She was anxious, after all, simply at being caught up in a swarm of people that was so thick she could barely move. She practically shuffled her feet as she waded through the swamp of bodies to try to follow Andrea and the others. She swallowed down her anxiety, though, remembering that Andrea had told her it was all an act. She didn’t want anyone to smell fear on her.

She turned her attention, instead of focusing on her anxiety, to watching Daryl to see whether or not he’d be surrounded by the young women—and to see how he might handle it if he thought she wasn’t looking.

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Merle laughed to himself and slid one of the beers he’d just been served over to Daryl before he slid a five to the blonde behind the counter. She took it under the cover of his hand because there was another blonde that was watching him like a hawk from across the room. Even though she promoted tipping everywhere else, Andrea could get a bit jumpy if she caught him tipping in an establishment such as this—especially if he was tipping a blonde as cute as the one that was serving.

Merle had no interest in the blonde beyond the fact, honestly, that she reminded him of Andrea. It would be hard to explain to Andrea, though, that any attraction he might feel at all toward the tart came from the fact that she looked a great deal like that which he loved most in the world—Andrea herself. 

It was better to simply do his best to have as little contact as possible with the blonde or any of the other little girls he’d had to shake off. There was nothing like a President or a Vice President patch to get your dick rubbed real good, if you wanted it, of course.

Daryl had already shook off about ten of the little things like a dog shaking water out of his coat.

His little brother looked about like a dog right now—one that had just come from a good cool swim in the summertime and was contentedly drying himself in the sun. He’d smiled more since he sat down than Merle had seen him smile in half a decade—and it was contagious.

“Boy...boy,” Merle mused. “Smilin’ like a fuckin’ mule eatin’ briars. They’s fuckin’ Jack-O-Lanterns woulda took a break from smilin’ if they’d been smilin’ long as your ass.” 

Daryl laughed at his ribbing instead of taking it to heart. He looked around, clearly found what he was searching out in the crowd, and his smile changed—but only a little. He got himself an eyeful of what he wanted, and then he turned back to his brother and his beer. He helped himself to a cigarette and took Merle’s lighter out of his hand where he’d been toying with it. 

“Ain’t she the most beautiful fuckin’ woman in this place?” Daryl commented, more to himself than to Merle.

Merle laughed to himself.

“I’ma plead the fifth on that shit,” Merle remarked. “But—she ain’t bad to look at, brother. I can’t help but see they’s more than one that’s gettin’ ‘em an eyeful.”

“They can look,” Daryl commented, before he swallowed down half his beer like he was dying of thirst. He’d drink twice as many glasses of water as he drank beer tonight. Merle knew the practice well because he’d been the one that started it among the brothers. Some adhered to it. Others didn’t. Daryl was sometimes lax about it, but tonight he wouldn’t be. Tonight he’d be particularly concerned about being in control of his bike on the way back to the motel.

Tonight he would understand what Merle had always said about riding with precious cargo on-board—even if Merle wasn’t sure that anyone could feel about theirs the way he felt about his.

Daryl sure looked like he was trying, though. 

“That lil’ lady must be doin’ a number on your dick, brother. It’s a rare thing to see somebody so damned whipped in what ain’t been no time at all,” Merle mused.

“Fuck you,” Daryl offered, though it was half-hearted at best. He held his hand up to get the blonde’s attention and called out “water” at her when she looked in his direction. “I ain’t whipped. But I like her an’ I don’t see no reason in fuckin’ around and pretendin’ I don’t. What the hell am I gonna gain, Merle, by pussy footin’ around an’ pretendin’ I’m lookin’ at a thousand different options an’ maybe can’t make up my mind? Say she don’t like that shit an’ she balks with good damn reason. Then what I got? Braggin’ rights to say that couldn’t nobody say I was too quick to snatch up what the hell I wanted? That’s stupid as shit. Look at it this way—if I was to spread out here—right here on this damned bar, right in fronta your face—a buncha candy bars an’ among ‘em was a...was a Baby Ruth ‘cause I know you like them shits an’ one of them...what’cha call it...Muskateer shits that’cha don’t like—now say I was to spread all that out here on this bar right in front of ya with like sixteen other candy bars an’ I told everyone grab what the hell they wanted. Well, if I done that, would you waste your time fuckin’ around actin’ like you might like that damn Muskateer shit while everyone’s snatchin’ shit up, or you gonna go straight to the Baby Ruth an’ fuck the rest of ‘em if they say you was too quick to get to it?” 

“I’m just givin’ you hell, brother. I ain’t sayin’ you done wrong by jumpin’ in there an’ gettin’ what the hell you want,” Merle said. “Hell—I guess I’m kinda glad you found somethin’. She seems like a sweet lil’ thing. Soft. A little quiet. Good for you.”

Daryl’s smile faded, but Merle didn’t feel that it was a negative emotion that brought about the fading of the smile—maybe it was only something passing through his mind that required more serious contemplation. He renewed his smile only long enough to thank the blonde for the glass of water that he’d use to wash down his beer, and then it fell again when he addressed Merle.

“She is good,” Daryl said. “Good for me. Just—good. You know that—that I mean she knows, Merle. I showed her what he done. Told her about him. About—Livvy, even.”

Merle cleared his throat. He nodded his head and hummed at his brother.

“You told her all that, did’ja?” He asked, mostly looking to spur his brother forward.

“An’ she don’t judge me, Merle,” Daryl said. “She ain’t holdin’ it against me. Ain’t—she ain’t...” He stopped. Then he started again after he’d thought a moment about what he wanted to say. “She knowed it all an’ she still wanted to be with me. Still wanted that bracelet. Them charms I put on that chain, Merle.”

“She ain’t in no place to judge nobody, Daryl,” Merle pointed out. Daryl frowned at him sincerely and Merle wanted to slap himself in the back of the head since there was nobody handy to do it for him. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Just mean to say that—she ain’t gonna judge. An’ she don’t seem the type no way. Seems that type that—you treat her good, an’ she’s gonna treat you good right back, brother.” 

Daryl smiled to himself.

“That’s the kinda woman you wanna make you an’ old lady out of, Merle,” Daryl said. 

Merle laughed to himself. 

Daryl had been smitten with Livvy. Maybe there’d even been more than that. As far as Merle knew, Livvy had been Daryl’s first everything.

But there was something different about his brother right now. There was something entirely different about him. As he looked across the room to watch the table where Andrea was sitting—like fucking queen parked up on her throne—with a bunch of the others crowded around her laughing about whatever story they were being entertained with—Daryl looked like he had stars in his eyes. He was looking at something precious to him, and it was putting stars right in his eyes. It was a phrase that Merle had heard before, but this was the first time that he was pretty sure he was actually seeing what it meant for himself.

It looked good on Daryl. Merle was pretty sure, too, that he’d never sat so fucking straight in his life. For a little bit, he might’ve crowed—just to remind his little chosen hen that he was around and feeling cocky as hell.

Merle laughed to himself at the thought and shook his head when Daryl looked at him in question.

“Nothin’, brother,” Merle assured him. “Just—was thinkin’ about somethin’ else. You right, though. Good ass woman like that is sure the kind you make an’ ole lady outta. Hell—more’n that, I reckon.” He glanced back at the women all surrounding the woman who had long ago take away Merle’s taste for any other woman. “Maybe more’n that, brother. If you lucky.”


	46. Chapter 46

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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The Pirates, the Saviors, the Judges, the Devil’s Order, the Kingdom.

The list went on. 

Daryl knew every club represented there that night. Most of them came from throughout Georgia, but they all had chapters that were close enough, geographically speaking, to rub elbows with one another. For one reason or another, though, there were often tensions that kept one MC or another from feeling very brotherly toward one another. There were some very clear alliances built, though. It was always important to know where they stood, at any given time, with any given MC. 

Each club had their codes, and some of them simply couldn’t agree with each other’s beliefs. Also, each club looked constantly to expand their numbers and their territory. Some of the larger clubs steamrolled the smaller ones and swallowed up their members. They took over. The members pledged allegiance to a new club and changed themselves entirely—not always for the better.

At these rallies, they often came together under something of a code of truce. They would share the same space and, in the interest of avoiding time spent behind bars, they would guard peace the best that they could until the celebration was done and the rally was over. Then they would all go back to their places. 

During times of truce—like this—and during discussions and negotiations, the presidents of numerous MCs could be seen together, even if they usually did their best to simply avoid dealing with one another. 

Merle, like the others, could play nice as long as he needed to. If he’d had his way, Daryl knew, then they’d never have to play nice because they’d all simply get along. They’d leave each to his own and they’d live in some kind of peace that was brought about by simply staying out of each other’s faces. Daryl also knew that it was very seldom the Judges that started any disagreement among all the MCs that sat close to another. More often than not, the Judges were only involved in conflicts when they found themselves dragged into the drama created by others.

The night at the Crow’s Nest wore on without much conflict of any kind taking place. It was a fairly peaceful night during which there was even some low-level enjoyment shared among members of MCs that normally weren’t allies. As it neared time to leave, they squared away their tabs and dropped a few extra dollars on tables and bars for tips.

When Merle started to make his way out of the bar, the Judges followed without any sort of formal command. Daryl glanced over his shoulder, following his brother out, to see that Andrea was rounding up the ladies to bring them with her. 

They flowed out into the parking lot like fish being poured out of a barrel and lighters flickered everywhere as everyone lit the final cigarette that they would smoke before they made it back to the motel. 

There might not have been any problem at all if it had been left up to them, but they were seldom the starts of trouble. Daryl saw it when it all began. 

And Merle saw it, too. 

The man’s name was Negan and he couldn’t play dumb about what happened. He’d been around for as long as Daryl could remember. He was the President of the Saviors and he’d held that position for probably a decade. His move was calculated and he went straight for Andrea because he knew that it would get Merle’s attention. 

Daryl didn’t see what happened, and maybe nobody did, until Andrea turned around. Maybe Negan’s first move had been to grab her ass. Maybe it had been do something else. When she swung around, though, his move was to grab her arm and, finding that he’d riled her up and such a thing amused him, it was to twist her arm to hold her close to him.

Merle and Daryl were both some distance away, and it took at least a few steps for them to close the distance. Before they could even reach Negan, the rest of the ladies in Andrea’s general vicinity launched themselves at Negan in their own attempt to free her. Still holding onto Andrea, he did his best to beat them off of him and his brothers joined in as Daryl and Merle dived into the scuffle.

Daryl knew that Merle was going to want to Negan for himself, and he turned his attention to the guy who had taken it upon himself to physically remove Carol from where she’d attached herself to Negan to try to separate him from Andrea. Carol howled out in response to some treatment she’d been dealt by the asshole and Daryl felt the satisfying crunch of the heel of his hand making hard contact with the asshole’s nose. Immediately the Savior turned and fled into the crowd of his brothers, and Daryl prepared himself for anyone who might try to come and avenge the brother that Daryl could have, with a little more force, rid of his sorry ass life.

As quickly as the fight broke out, it came to a sudden halt as though everyone involved was simply frozen for a split second. 

The sound of the gunshot got everyone’s attention.

Luckily, this time, the bullet had been fired into the air and not in the direction of any one person. When they looked for the source of the sound, they found that it was Joe—president of the Pirates—who was holding the pistol that had been fired. He laughed to himself when everything stilled and everyone grew silent.

“Now that I got everyone’s fucking attention, I think it’s time we started to clear out,” Joe said. “The cops are gonna be here any time now thanks to you assholes, and I’ve worked too damn hard to clean this establishment up to have you tarnishing her good name with a bunch of fuckin’ arrests because you can’t stand to keep your damn hands off one another.

“Keep your damned hands off my old lady,” Merle said, directing his words toward Negan and ignoring Joe. He reached for Andrea, pulling her away from Negan who was still holding onto the upper part of her arm, and he spat blood into the parking lot. From the looks of him, Negan had busted his lip, but Merle had gotten a few good hits on Negan that left both his nose and his lip bloodied. 

Still the asshole, Negan, was smiling.

“It’s time to go, boys,” Joe reminded them lest they launch into another round with each other.

“We played by your fuckin’ rules, Joe!” Merle spat. “You said tag ‘em or they ain’t claimed. We tagged ‘em. You see bigger’n shit she’s wearin’ a vest. My patch is on it. Says she’s my ole lady an’ that oughta mean somethin’.”

“It does in the Crow’s Nest,” Joe assured him. “You claimed the lady. She’s yours. It’s a hands-off policy.”

Negan laughed.

“I don’t follow your fuckin’ claiming bullshit, Joe,” Negan said. “What the hell I want, I take.”

“I’ll take your fuckin’ thumbs is what the hell I’ll take,” Merle responded back. “Make you completely the fuckin’ animal we all know you are.” 

Negan seemed to think it was all hilarious. Maybe that was one of the reasons that he could set Daryl’s teeth on edge. In general, the Judges did their best to avoid the Saviors. Everyone did their best to avoid the Saviors. They were assholes that seemed to start trouble for the sheer joy of doing so. It was difficult to avoid them entirely, though, when they were neighbors.

Merle had hugged Andrea against him, an arm protectively looped around her waist, and Negan leaned forward and brushed bloody knuckles against Andrea’s face to, presumably, leave Merle’s blood on her as some kind of extra mark. Her hand came out and slapped his away and he bit his lip. It was clear that he wanted to pay her back, but he was deciding if it was a good idea now that he was surrounded and, in general, was disliked by all the MCs gathered there.

“Nobody wants your dried up old road whore, Merle,” Negan said. “Nobody. That’s the only reason you’ve kept her so damned long. If that pussy was worth having, I’d have fucked her by now and she’d have left your sorry ass.”

“Break it up, assholes,” Joe said, intervening. “I’m closing down the Crow’s Nest. I can hear the fuckin’ sirens and I ain’t dealin’ with it tonight. There’s too many people on parole here for this shit. Get outta here. You wanna fuck each other up—you do it in your own damn backyard. I don’t want you shittin’ in mine.”

“We don’t want shit to do with Negan,” Daryl offered. “We don’t want shit to do with the Saviors. Weren’t us that started this shit—but you know by now we’ll finish what the hell gets dropped in our laps.”

“We goin’,” Merle said. “We goin’. Come on, brother. Everybody—let’s get the hell outta here. Fuckin’ time to let Joe an’ them clean out the damned trash.”

Daryl wanted to ask Carol if she was OK. He wanted to check her over to see if she was hiding something with her shocked silence. He knew that Merle wanted the same. Still, this was simply the time for leaving. They’d ride out some distance, get away from the possible conflict, and Merle would find a place for everyone to stop and regroup. 

Daryl caught Carol by the arm and she sunk into him and wrapped her arm around him. He felt her weight press against him like she found some comfort in his embrace. They stopped only as they passed by Negan and Carol jerked away from him. Daryl turned to see that Negan must have reached out to touch her as she passed.

Negan laughed to himself in the way that normally left Daryl’s blood boiling. This time, he found, the laughter elevated the temperature of his blood even higher.

“I never forget a face, Sweetheart,” Negan said. “And I’ve never seen yours before.”

Daryl turned quickly, putting himself between Carol and Negan. He stepped just close enough to the man to make it clear that he was talking to him, but he kept enough distance from him that Negan couldn’t lie and say he’d put his hands on him.

“You think everything belongs to you,” Daryl said, his voice coming out far more calmly than he expected, “then let me make this clear to you. Put your hands on her—an’ they gonna be mine. You won’t never put ‘em on another damned thing an’ I’ma put on a fuckin’ shelf.”

Negan laughed to himself.

“Let’s get the hell outta here, boys,” Negan called out, presumably to his brothers. “They’re just not fucking hospitable here.” 

Neegan probably was feeling quite unwelcome there. While everything had been unfolding, several other people had been spilling out of the bar—including allies of the Judges. Negan and the rest of the Saviors would soon be feeling the sensation of not being wanted or welcome at all.

Merle backed up and stopped the forward movement of his brothers to allow for Negan and the Saviors to leave. They’d wait until they were gone before they went to their bikes. The sirens, at this point, were closer, and it was simply better to wait until the cops got there. They would explain that it was an altercation that had already been solved. They would explain that the men who started it were gone. There would be no charges pressed because everyone left behind could get along.

And then they’d go. 

Daryl lit a cigarette, catching the nod of Merle’s head that said they’d be waiting like Daryl thought they would, and he offered one to Carol. She took it with shaky hands and he lit it for her.

“You OK?” Daryl asked.

“I’m fine,” Carol said quickly.

“He hurt you? What’d he do to you?” Daryl asked.

“I’m fine,” Carol repeated. “Really,” she added with a little more sincerity.

“Second thoughts?” He asked, barely wanting to look her in the eyes.

“About you?” She asked.

Daryl hummed.

“I’m still here,” she said. 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You didn’t have a ride otherwise,” he said. He chanced a glance at her then. She smirked at him.

“I might’ve found one,” she offered. Her smile fell. “Does that kind of thing happen often?” 

“Not if we can avoid it,” Daryl said. “Saviors are assholes.”

“Daryl—you’ve never—you’ve never actually cut off someone’s hands, have you?” Carol asked tentatively. 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Hands? No. Never had to.”

“Something else?” Carol asked.

“Didn’t nobody never tell you not to ask questions that you don’t want answers to?” Daryl asked.

Carol blanched, but she nodded her head.

“Second thoughts now?” Daryl asked.

Carol leaned forward and quickly pressed her lips against his before her fingertips found his face.

“I’m still here,” she said softly. “You’ve got blood on your face—but I can’t find where it’s coming from.” 

Daryl reached his hand up and brushed at his face. He looked at his fingers. The blood that he could see in the light of the parking lot was dark and sticky. It was drying quickly.

“Ain’t mine,” Daryl said. “Was that asshole’s. I broke his fuckin’ nose. Shit splattered, I guess.”

Carol cringed, but she caught Daryl’s hand and squeezed it.

“Before you ask,” she said, “I’m still here. But—I’d like to go back to the motel. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Daryl nodded at her. 

“Cops is comin’,” Daryl said. “Soon as we make it clear that we ain’t public enemy number one, we gonna head back to the motel. Listen—this shit weren’t supposed to happen. But we can’t always guarantee that it won’t happen. Like I said, Saviors are assholes. The Pirates—they can be some shit to deal with, especially when it comes to keepin’ their hands offa things, but they respect the idea of property.”

“That’s why we have the vests?” Carol asked.

“Been some trouble in the past,” Daryl said. “Pirates don’t touch what’s been claimed.” Carol nodded her understanding.

“But the Saviors do?” Carol asked.

“Saviors got their own damn code,” Daryl said. “An’ pretty much that code is what’s fuckin’ mine is mine and what’s yours is mine, too. Gotta stay on toppa their asses or they’re all up in your shit.”

“They ought to call themselves the Toddlers,” Carol offered, taking a drag off her cigarette.

Daryl laughed and pulled her to him. She sunk into him and he thought he felt her shiver.

“You cold?” He asked.

“A little,” Carol said. 

“I got another jacket in my saddlebag,” Daryl offered. “You wanna—layer up?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Carol said. 

“Sorry you had to see that,” Daryl said. “Hear that. I’m sorry he touched you.” 

“I’ve experienced worse,” Carol assured him.

“Still,” Daryl said. “Just—I just don’t want’cha to...I mean I’d understand if you did just as soon as we got back to Liberty but...that ain’t us. It ain’t what we’re about. We don’t start shit.”

“On the contrary,” Carol said. “But you’ll finish it if you have to.” 

“If it needs to be finished,” Daryl said. “I don’t want’cha to go, but I wouldn’t never make you stay. Guess I just wanted you to know that.”

Carol threaded her fingers through his. She pecked his lips again.

“Until you wash your face,” she said, “that’s the only safe place to kiss you. You look ridiculous with blood splattered all over your face.” She leaned her head close to him, her lips close to his ear. “Thank you—for—for giving me the freedom to make my own choices.”

Daryl swallowed.

“Always,” he said quietly, the sound of squad cars squawking as they found the driveway drowned out the word so that nobody else could hear it except Carol.

“I’m still here,” Carol said, blowing her words directly into Daryl’s into ear and sending a shiver up his spine. He felt the chill of the night that had made her shiver, but her words brought a warmth to him that chased it all away.


	47. Chapter 47

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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“Why the hell would she stay?” Daryl commented, taking a drag on his cigarette. “After some shit like that.” 

Merle laughed to himself.

“Twenty years an’ Andrea’s still here,” he said.

“She’s too damn deep in now,” Daryl said.

“She weren’t too damn deep in when she was seventeen years old an’ that asshole got her by the throat outside that lil’ place in North Carolina,” Merle said. “Jesus—I been puttin’ her ass through hell a long time. I shoulda knowed better.” He took a drink from the bottle he was holding. The two of them were sitting outside the motel on a little brick wall. They were working their way through a couple of packs of cigarettes. Daryl had a suitcase of beer and the box was open on the ground between his feet. He didn’t intend to drink them all by himself, but they were there. Merle was working on something out of a brown paper bag. 

Carol and Andrea were down the street getting food from a Chinese place that was open all night. They’d seen it on the way in and, despite the eventful night, Andrea had gotten off Merle’s bike complaining that she wanted egg rolls before she went to bed. Daryl had figured that Merle might run her down there, but Carol had immediately busted out with the fact that she, too, would like egg rolls. Before Daryl knew what was happening, the two of them had set out with Michonne, Alice, Sadie, and a few other old ladies to get a late-night feast that would make the people who ran the restaurant pretty pleased.

From where they were sitting, Daryl and Merle could somewhat keep an ear out to make sure that there was no real trouble. They couldn’t see them from here, but they’d hear if there was any kind of significant disturbance. 

Wren had taken the prospect and couple others across the street to raid an ABC store and the gas station. There was enough candy bars, cigarettes, and alcohol to wash down all the Chinese food that the ladies could carry.

Maybe this was just how they all dealt with the night. There was nothing wrong with any of it—even the police couldn’t have suggested they were causing a disturbance. Those of them that were outside their rooms were quiet enough that nobody would have noticed their presence if they weren’t searching it out. From anywhere around them, Daryl could hear a great deal more noise. 

“You never knowed that asshole was gonna grab her,” Daryl said. “Not tonight. Not back then. Not any time it’s ever happened.”

“I shoulda knowed better than to start fuckin’ her ass when she was just a damn kid,” Merle said. “Fuckin’ hell—Daryl—she was a mother fuckin’ kid!” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“That just now struck you, Merle?” Daryl asked. It was clear that Merle hadn’t spent a great deal of his life thinking about the fact that he was a decade older than Andrea. Tonight, though, it had settled in for him. Andrea had been an old lady for longer than she’d been anything else. “She don’t seem to care. Didn’t back then, either. There weren’t nothin’ nobody could say to run her off. Lord knows they tried.”

“I shoulda been better to her,” Merle mused. “She ain’t knowed no better. I was the first damn man in her life. She didn’t even get to know that I wasn’t good to her.” 

“You could always cut her loose now,” Daryl offered. “That’d go over real fuckin’ good.”

He laughed to himself. Merle was quiet. Any joviality he might have had was gone. Daryl reached for the bag. He took it out of Merle’s hand, sat it to the side, and offered his brother one of the beers from the box. 

“It’s this shit you’re drinkin’,” Daryl said. “Always gets you sore an’ deep in your thoughts. Beer does you an’ Andrea both better. She’s gonna come back lookin’ for you—fuckin’ thrilled about all the food they goin’ to buy—an’ she’s gonna find your ass neck deep in regret that she don’t share.”

Merle took the beer, cracked it open, and grumbled a thanks to Daryl. Daryl laughed to himself.

“I thought you was gonna soothe my worryin’ over Carol,” Daryl said. “Not make me sit out here an’ console you.”

“Carol ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Merle said. “She’s old lady material. She seen it tonight—some of the ugly. But she went to get egg rolls insteada cryin’ in the damned room about all the shit she regrets. She coulda demanded you leave. Instead she asked if—if you wanted pork fried rice with your chicken.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Then take your own words to heart,” Daryl said. “Andrea ain’t goin’ nowhere neither.”

“I wanted to break every bone in his whole arm and hand,” Merle said. He belched loudly and didn’t excuse himself—though Daryl didn’t expect him to do that. “Grabbin’ her like that.”

“Then or tonight?” Daryl asked.

“Any fuckin’ time,” Merle said. “Any fuckin’ body. But—tonight.” 

“That asshole popped Carol in the mouth when she went in to try to help Andrea,” Daryl said. “She ain’t said not one word about it ‘til we got in the light an’ I could see her tooth had cut up her lip. It was bleeding.” Daryl laughed to himself. “I’m glad I broke his fuckin’ nose. Crushed that shit. If I’da hit him any harder, we’da been workin’ up an explanation for the cops.”

“He deserved it,” Merle said. “All them deserve it. More’n that. I busted him in his face a couple good times.” Merle held his hand out and flexed it. He’d clearly hit Negan fairly hard since he’d also busted a knuckle. Negan had gotta at least one good hit in on Merle, but Merle hadn’t complained about that even once. “They said put the vests on ‘em and that would be that. That shoulda been the end of it.” 

“Saviors are assholes,” Daryl said. “Negan ain’t grabbed Andrea for no other reason than to rile your ass up. Same reason he messed with Carol.”

“She’s pregnant,” Merle said.

For just a moment, Daryl’s stomach bottomed out. It landed, he was pretty sure, somewhere on the ground beside the box of beer that he was holding onto. His head swam a little, but he couldn’t blame it on the relatively small amount of alcohol that he’d drank.

“What?” Daryl asked. “Carol? How the fuck can it happen so fast?”

Merle looked at him, brow furrowed. Then he laughed to himself, took a drink from his beer, and shook his head. 

“Now I know your ass is all eat up with that pussy, brother,” Merle said. “She done got in your head so you can’t remember there’s nothin’ else in the whole fuckin’ world. Weren’t talkin’ about fuckin’ Carol.” 

“Andrea?” Daryl asked.

Merle hummed.

“She’s...pregnant?” Daryl asked.

Merle hummed again.

“Well, I mean...maybe not exactly,” Merle said.

Daryl stared at his brother.

“I don’t think that’s how the hell that works, brother,” Daryl offered. “I think you is or you ain’t. There ain’t no like—no in between. Not in bein’ knocked up.”

“Well don’t you just know every little damn thing about it,” Merle mused. “For somebody that ain’t knowed that all it takes is like—one time, Daryl, for a woman to get knocked up. A couple minutes.” He laughed to himself. “Or in some cases—a couple seconds. That’s it. The damage can be done an’ the seed can be planted. It’s all about how ready she was to grow it.” 

“You know that,” Daryl said, “but you don’t know if Andrea’s all the way pregnant or...what Merle? What’s the other side of this?” 

“Ever since Carol got here with that lil’ girl...” Merle started.

“Sophia,” Daryl interrupted.

“Ever since she got here, Andrea’s been back on her kick of wantin’ a kid,” Merle said. 

“She’s always wanted a kid,” Daryl said. “So what’s different about it now?”

“Difference is—that I said I wanted to have one with her,” Merle said. 

“You mean that?” Daryl asked.

Merle hummed.

“I ain’t gettin’ any younger,” Merle said. “Neither is Andrea. She said—that her like—her eggs or whatever? Daryl they just shrivel up. Run out. Eventually they just ain’t no more and that’s the end, but before they run out they start to shrivel up an’ they don’t work as good. It’s like—you gettin’ the dregs at the bottom of the barrel. Figures—if we gonna do this, we gotta do it while there’s still some good eggs in there.”

“So you an’ Andrea...decided to have a kid?” Daryl asked.

Merle cleared his throat, finished his beer in a long gulp, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he reached in the box between Daryl’s legs and pulled out another can. He cracked it open. Even though the subject was deep, Daryl was right about the alcohol. The beer lightened Merle up where the straight liquor sent him deep down in his own pits of despair. Merle belched loudly again and Daryl made a noise at him that only made Merle laugh. 

“We been fuckin’ without nothin’,” Merle said. “She ain’t takin’ nothin’ an’ I ain’t wearin’ nothin’.”

“I coulda gone my whole damn life without thinkin’ about that like I just done,” Daryl said.

Merle laughed to himself.

“I mean—I don’t know she’s knocked up,” Merle said. “But I don’t know she ain’t. It’s like Schrodinger’s baby or some shit. Until she tells me otherwise, I’ma just believe she is.” 

“What’s this Schrodinger got to do with your kid?” Daryl asked.

“The scientist, you know,” Merle said. “Seen it on a documentary. This fucker put a cat in a box. Basically said like—cat ain’t dead an’ it ain’t alive. But it is dead an’ it is alive. All at the same damn time.”

“That don’t make no sense,” Daryl offered.

“It’s perspective, Daryl,” Merle said. He used the same tone he might have used if he’d just explained to someone how to do the same thing about five times. “If you don’t look in the box, you don’t know what’s in there. It could go either way. I like thinkin’ that—well, that Andrea’s pregnant.” 

“You really like it?” Daryl mused.

“You sound so amused,” Merle responded. “Is it that hard to think of me bein’ an old man?” 

“Not at all,” Daryl said. “Except your ass has been dead set against it.”

“Just ain’t wanted her to leave,” Merle said. “Ain’t wanted her to—change her mind. Ain’t wanted the whole thing to go to shit, you know? Didn’t wanna turn into him. Fuckin’ be somebody I didn’t know no more. Andrea ain’t like our Ma. She’d go. She wouldn’t fuckin’ stay for that shit.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“And you busted your knuckles tonight ‘cause somebody touched her,” Daryl said. “You wouldn’t no more hit Andrea than light yourself on fire. Not—not really hit her. I ain’t talkin’ about that awkward ass shit we had to have that whole—that whole table meetin’ about.” 

Merle laughed to himself.

“It was good,” he said. “It just got outta hand. I never meant for her to get smacked in the face.” 

Daryl shook his head.

“Don’t tell me no more,” he said. “I’ve been tryin’ to get shit outta my head for years. My point was that you ain’t gonna turn into him. You ain’t never gonna just up an’ start beatin’ Andrea. And you know she ain’t goin’ nowhere. If she ain’t gone by now, she ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He downed his beer, crushed the can, and dropped it at his feet to take in when they got back with the food. He cracked open another. “Jesus...”

“What?” Merle asked.

“I hate my own damn brain sometimes,” Daryl commented.

“What is it?” Merle asked.

“Fuckin’—I was just gonna add, ‘fore I caught myself, that she ain’t goin’ no damn where—especially not since she decided to take whatever the hell you had to give her to get a belly full of Merle Junior. Then I remembered it was fuckin’ Andrea I was talkin’ about. Threw up a lil’ bit in my mouth.”

Merle reached and smacked him playfully on the back of the head. It was still hard enough that Daryl’s teeth clacked lightly together, but not hard enough that it actually hurt. He laughed to himself. 

“She’s a fine ass woman,” Merle said.

“But she’s like—my sister,” Daryl said. “Shit—you gonna marry her, Merle? Make a damn honest woman out of her before she goes fillin’ the world up with your bastard kids?”

“You know how I feel about marriage,” Merle said.

“Marriage don’t fuck nothin’ up, Merle,” Daryl said. “It’s people that fuck up their marriages. Not the other way around.” 

Merle hummed. 

“When you got somethin’ that’s good,” Merle mused. “Somethin’ you like a whole damn lot...you don’t want nothin’ to mess it up. You don’t—you don’t never wanna lose it. Want to imagine it could last your whole damn life. Keep bein’ just that good.”

“I know,” Daryl said. He laughed to himself and swallowed down some of the beer. “For the first time... I think I know.”

“Then you know how terrified it can make you feel to think somethin’ might fuck it up,” Merle said. “Damn cold as if you was suddenly doused in ice water.” 

Daryl hummed.

“But Andrea’s not going anywhere,” Daryl offered. “Twenty years would be a long damn time to stay if you was set to run.” 

Merle hummed.

“I’ll let you know,” Merle said. “I hear ‘em comin’. I could hear Alice’s damn mouth two miles away. Only reason that Sadie puts up with her is ‘cause she can’t fuckin’ hear her. But I’ll let’cha know, brother.” 

“Sadie’s the luckiest one of us all when it comes to Al,” Daryl said with a laugh. “But—you gonna let me know about the marriage or the baby?” 

“Both,” Merle said. “And Daryl?”

“Hmm?” Daryl hummed at him.

“That shit can happen quick,” Merle said. “Just remember that. I don’t assume you gone through all them condoms yet, have you?”

“Not all of ‘em,” Daryl offered. “But we still got tonight.” 

Merle laughed to himself. 

“Damn boy,” was all he said before he laughed to himself and stood up to start cleaning up their area so they could move inside when the women got there.


	48. Chapter 48

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

“I feel like a little bitch,” Daryl commented, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray. “Shit—fuck if I’da ever wanted to tell your ass that—feels like a damned elephant is sittin’ on my chest. I damn near can’t breathe an’ it pisses me off...that’s what pisses me off.” 

Daryl sat at the little table in the motel room smoking a cigarette while Carol sat on the side of the bed. She’d been balling herself progressively more into a ball as the semi-conversation had gone on. She was almost rolled up like an armadillo as she sat there with her elbows on her knees and her head leaned into her arms. 

Daryl swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“Wish you’d say some shit,” Daryl said finally. The last thing that Carol had said was just to ask him why—after she’d let him know the whole damned thing was over—he’d gone to the table to sit and be quiet about things.

“What do you want me to say?” Carol asked quietly. 

Daryl looked at her. His chest already felt ready to explode, but seeing the expression on her face only made it worse. He didn’t want to see her upset. He didn’t want to see her hurting and possibly feeling as badly about things as he felt.

He slammed his fist down on the table so that it would absorb the impact. The pain of it ran through his hand and up into his wrist. He gritted his teeth against it, but he welcomed the pain. He welcomed the momentary relief it gave him from the pain in his chest. He didn’t miss, though, that Carol jumped. He heard, too, the mouse-like squeak that escaped her when the loud sound caught her by surprise.

Daryl sighed.

“I ain’t gonna hit you,” Daryl said. “I wouldn’t. Never. What I don’t understand is—why the hell you was fine an hour ago an’ then you just kick me outta your damned life?” 

Carol started to unroll herself from the tight little ball that she was constructing out of her body.

“What?” She asked.

“What?” Daryl echoed.

“What did you say?” Carol asked.

“Why the hell was you just—you was just fine,” Daryl said. “We eat the food. Opened them cookies. You was laughin’ about—about the fortunes. And...”

Daryl stood up. He stood up because there wasn’t enough room in his chest for his lungs. He was suddenly convinced of it. That must be what was wrong. There wasn’t enough room in his chest while he sat down and they weren’t expanding. He wasn’t getting the air that he needed. He couldn’t breathe. That was why it hurt so much.

He shook his head.

“Whatever,” he said. “It was a good weekend, right? Had a good damn time up until tonight. That’s all that matters.”

“I don’t understand,” Carol said. Her voice shook at the end.

“Me either,” Daryl said. 

“Is this how you’re always going to be?” Carol asked. “If I don’t—if I don’t want to have sex with you?” 

“This ain’t about sex,” Daryl said. “This is—this is about you not wantin’ to be with me. It’s about—you sayin’ you wanted to an’ then you didn’t. Just like that you was just fuckin’ done with me.”

“I never said that!” Carol protested.

Now she hit her feet, fully unrolled, and Daryl was surprised. He furrowed his brow at her, but she was looking right back at him with the same expression on her face.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” He asked.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Carol echoed.

There were clearly tears on her cheeks, and some of them still hung around in her eyes, waiting their turn to drop out.

“You said you didn’t wanna be with me,” Daryl said. “Just like that—no damn warning.” 

“I said I didn’t want to be with you,” Carol said. “Like that, Daryl. Like—I didn’t want to have sex with you.”

Daryl stared at her and she stared right back at him. His chest still ached, but now it was aching like it was pulling toward her—like there was some magnetic link between them. It was aching with the hope that he didn’t want to give into. It ached with the hope that he’d misunderstood her, heard her wrong, or jumped to conclusions too quickly. 

Daryl chewed at his cuticle. He snubbed out his cigarette and busied his hands with finding another. He cleared his throat.

“You—said you didn’t wanna be with me,” Daryl said. “You said it. Just like that. Daryl—you said—I’m sorry, but I just don’t wanna do this. I don’t wanna—be with you. Think you even said no more.”

Carol rubbed at her face with her hands. 

“I meant—we had talked about having sex,” Carol said. She walked over and without asking him, helped herself to a cigarette. “I said I wanted to before we ate but...I ate all that Chinese food and...” She shrugged. “I just didn’t want to and then—you got so angry about it.” 

Daryl frowned at Carol. He felt his face grow warm. 

“So—you was only talkin’ about sex?” Daryl asked.

Carol frowned right back at him and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Of course I was only talking about sex,” Carol said.

“Well you gotta be clear about that kinda thing!” Daryl barked at her.

“I was!” 

“I didn’t hear you right!” Daryl responded.

“Then you should make sure you understand before you go getting so mad!” Carol insisted. 

Daryl swallowed. The pain in his chest was dissipating. It was being replaced with something else, though, that made his gut churn. 

“I’m sorry,” he admitted. “I—really am.”

“I’m sorry you—thought I was breaking up with you,” Carol said. She shook her head. “Why would I break up with you, Daryl?” 

Daryl laughed to himself, but he didn’t feel a bit of sincerity in the laughter. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” He asked. “After what happened tonight? I couldn’t blame you for runnin’ outta here as fast as you could.”

“I told you I wouldn’t,” Carol said. 

“Thought you changed your mind. You wouldn’t be the first person that’s changed their mind on me.” 

Carol nodded her head.

“I’d rather you check with me before you go getting so mad,” Carol said. “You wouldn’t be the first person who—has gotten mad at me for things I didn’t intend before.” 

Daryl felt a catch in his chest. He nodded his head. He closed the distance between them with two steps and raised his hand up. Carol flinched, but only slightly. He still saw it, though, and it made his stomach hurt. Without meaning to, or even intending to, he heard himself try to soothe her with a shushing noise. He raised his fingertips up and brushed her cheek. When she relaxed, he moved his hand to wipe away the few remaining remnants of tears that dampened her cheeks.

“Even if I was mad at you,” Daryl said. “I wouldn’t never hit you. That’s—well, it’s all there is to it.”

“Even if I changed my mind,” Carol said, “I’d handle things a lot more delicately. But—I don’t intend to change my mind. But, Daryl? I don’t want to feel uncomfortable. Saying no, I mean. I don’t want to feel like...you’re going to be mad. I’ve—dealt with that before.”

Daryl’s stomach clenched tightly again. He swallowed and shook his head. 

“I weren’t never mad at you,” Daryl said.

“I saw it,” Carol said. “Just—now. You were plenty mad, Daryl.” 

“Not with you,” Daryl insisted.

“With who, then?” Carol asked.

“With me,” Daryl said. “With my life. Mad that I fucked it up. Couldn’t hold out longer than a weekend ‘fore I fucked up somethin’ that—to me—was a good damned thing.” 

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Carol said. “Did I?” 

Daryl shook his head. He kept his hand on her face and Carol leaned her cheek into it. 

“You can say no to me,” Daryl said. “Any time you got a mind to say no. I won’t promise that it’s gonna be my favorite thing to here—because it ain’t—but I can promise you that you can say it and I ain’t gonna hold it against you.” 

“You’re not mad, then?” Carol asked. “That I’m not in the mood?” 

Daryl laughed to himself. He lit the cigarette that he’d been holding in his hand, waiting to light it, since he’d needed to occupy his hands. Carol, too, was holding one so he offered her the lighter. She accepted it. He sat at the table, and she copied him.

“I wish you was in the mood, though,” he said with a sigh. “I like bein’ with you an’ I ain’t gonna lie and say I don’t because you told me that’cha liked knowin’ that I like the way you looked an’ liked fuckin’ you. So I’ma say that. I like it and I wish you was in the mood. But—like I said, I weren’t mad at you no way. Even when I thought you meant you wanted to be rid of me entirely, I was more pissed that I was the kinda person that would run you off. That I lived the kinda life that would run you off.” 

Carol laughed to herself across the table. Daryl urged her to share with him by nudging her under the table with his foot and asking her “what?” twice.

“I was just thinking that it took me too long to get up the nerve to leave Ed,” Carol said. “Since I’ve gotten to Liberty I’ve—I’ve found people who seem to care. You all seem to genuinely care about each other. I couldn’t imagine being ready to run away over—over something as simple as what happened tonight.”

Now it was Daryl’s turn to laugh.

“You jumped on a man,” Daryl said. 

“He grabbed Andrea,” Carol said matter-of-factly. “There were more of us than there was of him.” 

“You got busted in the mouth,” Daryl said.

“I’ve been busted in the mouth more times than I can count,” Carol said in the same tone as before. Daryl swallowed and shook his head.

“I never want to see you get hurt no more,” Daryl said.

“Getting hurt is part of life,” Carol offered.

“You know what I mean,” Daryl said. 

Carol didn’t respond verbally in any way. Instead, she leaned across the table and found Daryl’s hand. She wrapped her fingers around his hand and squeezed. It said enough.

“You seen the fight,” Daryl said. “Heard what was said.”

“And I knew you meant it, too,” Carol said.

“An’ you don’t wanna run?” Daryl asked.

“Does that make me crazy?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“It might just make you crazy enough,” Daryl mused.

“To be an old lady?” Carol asked.

Daryl hummed at her. 

“Damn near the queen,” he said.

“That’s Andrea’s job,” Carol said.

“Vice queen,” Daryl said with a laugh. 

“I guess—we’ve still got a lot to learn,” Carol said. “About how to communicate with one another. You and me.” 

“I guess so,” Daryl said. “I’ll—try not to jump to conclusions. I guess I was mostly wound up. Already worried an’ shit about what happened. I guess I was just—waitin’ on that shoe to drop.”

“And I wasn’t trying to drop it,” Carol said.

“I’m sorry for that, too,” Daryl said. “Jumpin’ to conclusions.”

“I’m sorry for not being clear,” Carol said. “And—for not clarifying when you got upset. And—for not wanting to have sex with you.”

“Don’t,” Daryl said. He shook his head at her. “Don’t apologize for that. Last damn thing I’d wanna do is know you was fuckin’ me an’ not wantin’ to fuck me. Hell—couldn’t think of no fuck that could be worse than that.”

“But you are disappointed,” Carol said. 

“Of course I am,” Daryl said, this time laughing to himself. “Hot ass woman like you. Of course I wish you was wantin’ to fuck me. But you ain’t—so that’s that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Not that I’m—I don’t want’cha to think that I’m tryin’ to convince you ‘cause I wouldn’t fuck you now if you asked me to...I’d be figurin’ you’d be tryin’ to lie to me or somethin’...but I guess I’m a little upset ‘cause I was thinkin’ it was our last chance, you know?” 

“Last chance?” Carol asked. 

Daryl nodded. He got up and helped himself to another of the beers out of the small fridge. He’d loaded as many from his box into the fridge as it would hold. Merle had taken some of them, but the fridge was still overloaded, especially now that Carol had wedged some Chinese food around in there. Thankfully they’d eaten most of what they’d brought into the room. Daryl offered Carol a beer and she nodded that she wanted one. He cracked his open when he sat down and she followed suit. 

“Goin’ back to Liberty,” Daryl said. “You got Soph sleepin’ in the bed with you. Andrea right there. I’m livin’ with Merle. I guess—just feels like this is the last chance we got to be together.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“It might not be easy,” Carol said, “but I think we can work things out. I think—Andrea might be willing to babysit some. Maybe we’ll switch places for a night or two. You and Andrea could trade locations.”

Daryl hummed. He was pleased with the thought. It hadn’t occurred to him. He nodded.

“She’s—well, Merle says she might be knocked up.”

“Andrea?” Carol asked.

“Don’t’cha say nothin’, though,” Daryl said. “Don’t wanna spoil their fun or nothin’ in sayin’ it when they get a mind to share with everyone.” 

Carol dragged her finger across her chest in an “X”. 

“I won’t,” she promised. “I’m happy for her if she is, though.” 

“Might get married,” Daryl said.

“But I shouldn’t say anything about that, either,” Carol ventured.

“Right,” Daryl agreed. “But it means they might even be more willing to switch places sometimes.”

Carol hummed.

“Daryl,” she ventured after a moment. He hummed in question. “I know you said that—you wouldn’t fuck me even if I asked you to. And I’m not asking you too because I really feel...so gross right now. But—do you think we could at least...if it’s not something you’re against...hold each other?”

Daryl swallowed. 

“You mean like cuddle?” Daryl asked.

“Do you cuddle?” Carol asked. “Without sex?” 

“Never have,” Daryl said. “But—I guess I could.” 

Carol smiled at him. 

“And maybe—in the morning—we could squeeze in a little ride of our own before we make the big ride back to Liberty?” 

Daryl smiled to himself. He felt his face burn warm. 

“You mean on the bike?” Daryl asked.

“I’ll let you decide,” Carol said. She winked at him. “Come to bed? Unless—cuddling isn’t exciting enough for you?”

“This night’s been exciting enough,” Daryl said. “I think your cuddling sounds just about right. After all—we gonna need our rest for in the morning.”


	49. Chapter 49

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I got stuck on this one for a moment, so I have special thanks to ruru for helping me get unstuck! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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It was almost dark as Daryl drove the truck toward the Greene family farm with Carol in the passenger seat. They were going to pick Sophia up and Carol yawned every few minutes. She tried to cover over her yawns, but Daryl still heard them. Every now and again they led him to copy her. 

It had been a long day. A good day, but a long one. They’d risen long before the sun in order to make the best use that they could of the quiet early morning. They’d had slow, lazy sex twice and then they’d tripped down the sidewalk together to a small café to have a quick breakfast. They were ready to go long before any of the other brothers emerged from their rooms and started talking about the ride back. 

The ride back to Liberty had been uneventful and Daryl had enjoyed it. There was nothing that wasn’t enjoyable about riding on a road that seemed almost abandoned except for his brothers. He enjoyed, too, the feeling of Carol’s body as she wrapped herself around him and held on for the duration of the ride. Once they got back into Liberty, the riders split up. One of the prospects had taken Teeter home, and everyone else had gone where they needed to go. Daryl had followed Merle back to the Chambers to make sure that the place was fine. He and Carol had left the bike only to stretch their legs, share a cigarette, and snag a quick kiss or two while Merle and Andrea had checked the place out and relocked the building until it could open for business the following day.

Then Daryl had taken Carol back to his place just long enough to swap the bike out for the truck and they’d started the drive to the Greene farm.

He couldn’t remember the last time that day that they’d exchanged actual words between them, but the silence didn’t feel strained or uncomfortable, either. He didn’t have the tight feeling that he sometimes got when he was truly worried that someone was avoiding speaking to him or that they were sitting on something that was too large for them to know how to start discussing.

Carol was simply riding—clearly at least a little sleepily—in the truck while Daryl drove her to get her daughter. 

Daryl rolled down the window, took a cigarette from his pack, and lit it. He offered the pack to Carol by tapping her on the arm with it. She glanced at it, shook her head, and hummed in the negative to refuse the cigarette so Daryl tossed the pack between them in the seat in case she might change her mind. 

“You awful quiet over there,” Daryl said. 

“Am I?” Carol asked. She seemed genuinely surprised.

“You ain’t said nothin’—probl’y since the Chambers,” Daryl said. 

Carol sucked in a breath and sat up from where she was somewhat slumping against the window. She stretched and sounded a little like she was waking up from sleep.

“I guess—there’s nothing much to talk about,” Carol said. “Unless there was something you wanted to talk about.”

“You sure that—you just ain’t talkin’?” Daryl asked. “It ain’t—well, it ain’t me or—or nothin’ I done?” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“No,” she said. “It’s not you. Or anything you’ve done, Daryl. I just—didn’t have anything to talk about. But now that you brought it up...”

“Brought what up?” Daryl asked.

“Talking,” Carol said. “Whether—whether or not you did anything or I was being quiet because...because of something you did...”

Daryl laughed to himself as his chest tightened. He wanted to kick himself for bringing the feeling on. He had only himself to blame for this one. 

“Now that I brung it up,” Daryl said, “you realized that’cha do know of somethin’ that I done.”

Carol reached a hand over and rested it on Daryl’s leg. Daryl glanced at it only a second before returning his eyes to the road. Then, when he was confident that there was nothing around them to be concerned with, he glanced at Carol. She was looking out the windshield, so Daryl redirected his eyes to the glass. 

She didn’t do anything with her hand except keep it resting on his leg. It seemed that she had no other intent than to simply make physical contact between them. Still, Daryl found the simple gesture soothing. 

“You didn’t do anything,” Carol reiterated, her voice low. “I guess—I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“About me?” Daryl asked.

“About—us,” Carol said. “About—being your old lady. About how—I don’t know how to do that. I still don’t know the rules, Daryl.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. He finished his cigarette, flicked the butt out the window, and rolled the window back up. Switching hands on the steering wheel, he dropped his hand over hers and caught her fingers in his. 

“There ain’t no rules, Carol,” Daryl said. “Bun’cha shit’s what it is. The rules. I mean—I guess there’s some rules, but Andrea’d know ‘em better’n me. The main rule is—at least in my opinion—that’cha...ya know...faithful.”

“To you or the MC?” Carol asked.

“Both, maybe,” Daryl said. “You sure as shit wouldn’t do good to ever turn rat on nobody, but that’s just...it’s just good common sense. Mostly I’m talkin’ about bein’ faithful to me.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“That’s all I have to do? Be faithful?” Carol asked.

“Far as the club’s concerned, I don’t think they give a shit about much that’cha do,” Daryl said. “But don’t nobody like an ole lady that ain’t faithful. You expect that shit outta tarts, but not somebody’s ole lady.”

“What about you, Daryl? Not the club. Just—you. What do you expect?” 

“From you?” Daryl asked.

“From me. From...us. What do you expect?” Carol asked.

Daryl cleared his throat. His breath caught in his chest. It was a loaded question. The possibilities were practically endless. It was almost impossible to know what the right answer to this question might be and answering it incorrectly could go very badly. The stakes were high, and Daryl had never done very well with any question where he felt the stakes were quite as high as they were at this moment.

“What do you expect?” Daryl asked, trying to turn it around on her. “From me an’ us? You got just as much right as I do to make expectations an’ set rules.”

“My marriage was very, very bad, Daryl,” Carol said.

“I know it,” Daryl confirmed. “Know you might be feelin’ a little gun-shy, too. I don’t hold that against you.” 

“And I know that you might have some concerns,” Carol said. “Some insecurities. And I don’t hold them against you. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t every use them against you. Not on purpose, at least.”

Daryl felt a little of the tightness in his chest start to undo itself. Suddenly this didn’t feel so much like a test. At least, it didn’t feel so much like a test that he was simply destined to fail. 

“I appreciate that,” Daryl said. 

“That’s why I want us to talk about—what we expect,” Carol said. “What we want. Maybe—what we will and won’t tolerate. I know that we’ll keep talking about it, and we’ll keep adding to it as we go along and get to know each other, but maybe we need to just—just get some of the basics out of the way. The things that we know really matter to us. That way, Daryl, you don’t have to always worry if there’s something you’ve done or if I’m just not in this anymore.”

Daryl’s throat tightened a little just hearing her say the words, even though he knew that she didn’t mean them at this very moment. He cleared it.

“You wanna go first?” He asked.

“What if we just go together?” Carol asked. “Whatever we can think of.”

Daryl nodded his head. He didn’t know if she was looking at him at all, though, because every time he glanced in her direction she was looking straight out the windshield.

“I won’t tell you that’cha gotta stay,” Daryl said. “But—if you gonna go? At least—just tell me about it. Face to face. Sit across the damn table an’ tell me that’cha done an’ you gonna go. You set on it, then I won’t try to stop you, but...just tell me.”

“I’m not planning on it,” Carol assured him, “but I’ll tell you if I change my mind. And—I’d appreciate the same.”

“You got it,” Daryl said. He laughed to himself. “Though—I wouldn’t stay up at night worryin’ about it if I was you. I mean—I ain’t never had the chance to really know for sure, but I feel like—I’m kinda a sure thing.” 

Carol laughed quietly. 

“I thought you might be,” she said. “Loyal. Long term.” 

“You don’t like that?” Daryl asked.

“It scares me,” Carol admitted. “I’m coming out of a bad marriage. I thought my marriage was forever. He held that over my head a lot.”

“I won’t never hold it over your head,” Daryl said. “I mean—I don’t want’cha to go, but if you don’t want to be with me no more then that don’t make neither one of us happy.”

“While we’re on the subject,” Carol said, “and—shit—I feel nervous even saying it because...because it’s been a weekend. But—what about marriage?” Daryl nearly choked and Carol laughed. “I don’t mean right now!” Carol said quickly. “I don’t mean—maybe not even in the foreseeable future. I just mean how do you feel about it?” 

“I really was tryin’ not to think about it,” Daryl admitted. “Just—I know you’re wantin’ slow.”

“I do,” Carol said.

“That don’t feel slow,” Daryl said. “So I weren’t thinkin’ on it because I figured it’d be a while ‘fore you expected me to think on it. I mean—I mean I’ve thought about marriage, but I was tryin’ to really not think to hard on like us and...you know...marriage.”

“I don’t mean for now,” Carol said. “Not for now or—anytime soon. Just—I guess I mean—how do you feel about it in general? Your honest feelings and not just what you might think I want to hear. Would it be something you’re interested in? Or is it something that you prefer not to get involved in?” 

“Like Merle,” Daryl said. “Or like Merle thought, I guess...since it seems he’s changed his mind. No. I mean—not tomorrow or like...maybe not next month. But I don’t mind the idea of marriage. I mean—I think I’d like to be married. To you. Or—I mean I hadn’t thought about it but...”

Carol patted his leg.

“It’s OK,” she assured him. “There’s no wrong answer, and I wasn’t taking this as a proposal.”

Daryl laughed to himself and his stomach did a flip flop, but her reassurance helped him to find his Zen a bit. 

“I’m not against marriage,” Daryl said. “But—married or not, I expect loyalty. I don’t want someone fuckin’ around on me. Makin’ a fool outta me.”

“Does it go both ways with the MC?” Carol asked.

“What?” 

“An old lady’s supposed to be faithful,” Carol said. “What about—a brother? Do they have to be faithful?” 

“Depends on the brother,” Daryl admitted. “Honestly—there’s some that play fast an’ loose with bein’ faithful.”

“Then I want to make the rule,” Carol said. “I don’t want you to cheat on me, either.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You don’t gotta worry about that,” he said. “Hell—took me a long time to find you. I found the best—what the hell do I want with somethin’ else?” 

He glanced at her and she was smiling. She was looking at him and he winked at her, catching her smile just the same as if it were contagious.

“Can you be serious?” She asked.

“I am,” Daryl assured her. “You got my word. I ain’t gonna cheat on you.”

Carol was silent for a moment.

“And I don’t want you to hit me,” Carol said.

Daryl’s stomach practically turned inside out.

“Never,” he said, choking on the feeling that rose up inside him that this was, for her, a perfectly reasonable request, and he never wanted that to be reasonable for her. 

“Not even when you’re mad,” Carol said.

“Never,” Daryl said. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely never.”

“And I don’t want you to hit Sophia,” Carol said.

“Never,” Daryl said.

“Because—if you do? I might kill you. Even though I—I won’t want to. I might kill you. And I certainly won’t stay.” 

Daryl didn’t doubt what Carol said. She didn’t say it like a threat. She didn’t say it like she wanted to get his attention. She said it like it was simply a matter of fact. 

“I hear ya,” Daryl said. “An’ I respect ya. An’ I ain’t never gonna hit you nor her. But—I don’t want’cha hittin’ an’ slappin’ me neither. I don’t like that shit. If I’ma talk shit over that pisses me off, I expect the same from you. Don’t’cha fry my damn jaws if you don’t like somethin’ I say.”

“I won’t hit you,” Carol assured him. She laughed nervously. “I don’t think I could—unless...”

“I swear,” Daryl said. “I ain’t never gonna touch Sophia no way that she don’t want me touchin’ her.”

“It’s a lot on you that I’ve got a five year old daughter,” Carol said.

“I like her,” Daryl said. 

“It’s a lot of responsibility,” Carol said. “A lot you didn’t sign up for.”

“Signin’ up for it right now,” Daryl said. “Right here in this truck—‘fore we pick her up. You got a pen?” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“I’m being serious,” Carol said. 

“I am too,” Daryl assured her.

“I’d understand if it’s too much,” Carol said.

“I believed you when you said the club ain’t too much for you,” Daryl said. “Now you gotta believe when I say that Sophia ain’t too much for me.” 

Carol laughed quietly.

“OK,” she said. “Do you really like kids? Or do you only say that because—well, because Sophia’s part of the package?” 

“I really like kids,” Daryl assured her. “I do...a lot. I was waitin’ until we was past the slow part, but since you already proposed to me an’ all...”

“I didn’t!” Carol interrupted. She playfully swatted him. “Shit—is that hitting? I’m sorry.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“That’s play hittin’,” he said. “Not real hittin’ an’ it don’t count for me. But—do it count for you?” 

“Like that? No,” Carol said. “I mean—playful. Not...”

“I know the difference,” Daryl assured her. “Besides—I was gonna say that, since you done proposed to me an’ all, I guess I can tell you that I like kids enough that I was figurin’ we could have about—oh I don’t know—fifteen or twenty sound alright to you?” 

Carol laughed. 

“I hope to hell you’re joking,” Carol said.

Daryl laughed.

“OK,” he said. “Twenty five it is, but I wasn’t gonna go that high.”

“Shut up,” Carol said with a snort. 

“Honestly,” Daryl said. “An’ it’s like what we were talkin’ about I don’t mean this month or next year or...whatever...but I do like kids. Happy to get the chance to have Sophia in my life. Wouldn’t mind...ya know...talkin’ about it later if you ain’t against it.”

“Children?” Carol asked.

“It’s too damn early to talk about any of this,” Daryl said when he heard her tone of voice.

“No,” Carol said. “I started it. And when—maybe—when the time feels...right? I’d like to talk about it with you. Then.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. He felt around and found her hand. He raised it to his lips and then squeezed it in his hand.

“I’ll talk about whatever the hell you wanna talk about whenever the hell it suits you,” Daryl said. “Right now, though, let’s just talk about—how exactly you wanna go about talkin’ to Sophia about us. Because you gonna know better’n anyone how you wanna tell her.” 

“I just want to tell her,” Carol said. “Just—that we care about each other and—we’re going to date. Like Andrea and Merle. That makes sense to her. Andrea and Merle already make more sense to Sophia than me and her Daddy did. So—I’m just going to tell her that we care about each other and we’re going to date like Andrea and Merle. And—I hope the rest will speak for itself.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Ain’t Merle gonna love that shit...but it’s a good idea. Like Andrea an’ Merle. I guess there’s worse people to be like. You think she’s gonna take it alright?” 

Carol hummed. 

“I think—honestly—she already has,” Carol said. “We’ll see, but Sophia’s taught me that, most of the time, it’s those of us who pretend to be adults that complicate things unnecessarily.”

“You might be right,” Daryl said. Silence fell over them and he drove the truck the last half mile down one of the rural roads until he slowed it and turned into the Greene family’s driveway. “Here we go,” he said. “Let’s go get Soph.” 

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AN: Quick note because I sometimes get jumbled and need people to correct me. I couldn’t find it, but I miss things sometimes. This incarnation of Carol and Daryl hasn’t exchanged the big “l” word yet, right? Am I correct that’s still to come?


	50. Chapter 50

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Carol asked, her voice only loud enough to carry from Andrea’s small kitchen to the couch.

“I’m good,” Daryl said. “Maybe later.” 

Carol didn’t know how much “later” there would be, but she didn’t point that out to Daryl. The coffee she was drinking was decaf. She could feel exhaustion deep in her bones and she was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that they would return to work tomorrow. The morning would see both of them headed to the shop after Sophia had been dropped off at school.

The morning would see the two of them doing these things together—from start to finish.

Carol didn’t know if Daryl had contacted Merle and Andrea while she’d been thanking the Greenes for the care that they’d given her daughter, or if it had genuinely been Merle and Andrea who had gotten in touch with them to say that they wanted one more night together, but the result had been that Carol had gotten a text—not long after she’d gotten in the truck with Sophia to head back to Andrea’s house—from Andrea that stated that she and Merle would be staying at Merle’s place and that she gave Carol her blessing to share her bed with Daryl instead of staying cramped up in the small bedroom with Sophia.

Sophia had been wound up when they’d picked her up from the Greene’s farm. She’d come rambling a million words a minute about farm animals, tractors, and adventures. She couldn’t wait to share everything she’d seen and experienced with Carol and Daryl and, honestly, Carol was happy to hear it. Her daughter, she knew, had been limited in how much fun she could expect to have when Ed was part of the picture. He really preferred that Sophia was seen and not heard. In actuality, he’d preferred that she not even be seen, but he could at least tolerate her presence if she behaved herself like a stone statue and not at all like the flesh and blood child that she was.

Carol had spent much of her daughter’s life trying to keep her quiet and still rather than getting the opportunity to watch Sophia blossom.

These days, Sophia was tasting a freedom that she’d never known before and it made Carol’s heart ache with happiness.

Daryl—who never seemed to even be aware that the idea of a child being seen and not heard existed—seemed to enjoy egging Sophia on. Instead of insisting that she be quiet, he pressed her to keep talking. He asked her questions and, through what seemed like genuine smiles, put on a thick layer of enthusiasm when he talked to her that kept her sharing.

Sophia hadn’t minded at all when he’d presented the fact that he’d be staying there that night because Andrea was visiting Merle.

And Daryl had let her pick out a movie from the small pile of DVDs that Andrea had bought her and had popped popcorn even though it was far too late for such a thing and, practically wrangling the girl to get her to sit still for even half a second, he’d gotten her to sit at the kitchen table while Carol and Daryl had both explained to her that they cared about each other very much and they would be dating each other—very much like Andrea and Merle, since Sophia seemed to understand that relationship well. 

Maybe Sophia had been too distracted by her love of movies and a bowl of popcorn that would fill up her whole lap, but she hadn’t offered them much more than an “OK” that had immediately segued into her request to pull down the blanket off the back of the couch that Andrea kept there for wrapping up. They hadn’t forced her to stay and talk about things. They’d let her move on to the movie just as she wanted. 

Carol stirred her hot coffee, tasted it, and found that she was satisfied with the flavor. She returned the carton of creamer to the fridge and, switching off the light over the stove, walked back toward the couch. 

The movie was still playing even though Carol was almost certain that nobody was watching it at this point. 

Carol walked around the couch and her heart did a strange dance where it seized, almost hurting for a moment, before it began to beat just a little out of rhythm. 

In the darkness of the living room, the cartoon movie providing the greatest source of light, Daryl sat on the couch. In his lap was a mostly eaten bowl of popcorn. Leaned against him with sock feet on the couch, and mostly wrapped up in Andrea’s blanket, Sophia was asleep. Her small hand had fallen across his chest as though she’d fallen asleep in the middle of reaching for the popcorn. His arm was lightly resting across Sophia’s body, weighing her down with a heaviness that obviously offered some kind of comfort.

She slept soundly, and Carol thought that, perhaps, this was the best kind of blessing that Sophia could give, at her age, for any relationship that Carol might want to enter.

“You don’t have to keep watching this,” Carol offered.

“Ain’t wanted to turn it off,” Daryl said. “Told her she could watch it.” 

Carol smiled to herself.

“She’s been asleep for a while,” Carol said. “She isn’t watching anything except...except whatever it is that happens in her dreams.” 

Daryl hummed and somewhat craned his neck to look at Sophia without moving his body.

“What’cha suppose she dreams about?” He asked. 

It sounded like a genuine question and it struck Carol. It sounded like he might really care. Carol eased herself down to sit on the arm of the couch so that she wouldn’t disturb Sophia. She sipped her coffee and hummed at Daryl.

“The same kinds of things we dream about,” Carol said. “But—on a younger level, perhaps. Her weekend at the farm. Maybe the movie.”

“She ain’t said nothin’,” Daryl said. “About me an’ you. You think that’s OK?” 

Carol’s stomach twisted gently.

“I think she’s saying a lot right now,” Carol offered. “At least—I think I hear her. Loud and clear.” 

Daryl smiled to himself. It quickly faded, and he turned his gaze back to the television. Carol knew, though, that the cartoon didn’t hold his attention.

“She don’t talk about him,” Daryl said. “Never. Not a peep. But’cha know she remembers him. You know she ain’t forgot him.” 

Carol swallowed and nodded, accepting the truth of what he said for herself.

“Probably—not much that she has to say about him would be good,” Carol said. “She remembers him but—maybe like the rest of us—there are things she’d rather forget.” Carol sighed. “Maybe she’ll talk about him someday. When she’s ready.”

“We’ll listen when she’s ready,” Daryl offered.

“Do you even want to hear that?” Carol asked. “It has to make you uncomfortable—even hearing it from me.”

“It ain’t about what the hell makes me comfortable or uncomfortable,” Daryl offered. “It’s about there bein’ a whole lot more room out here than there is in there. Sometimes—you take your demons outta the dark an’ they don’t seem as damn scary. Especially not when there’s space an’ time between you an’ who put ‘em there.” 

“I wanted so badly to protect her from everything about Ed,” Carol offered quietly.

“You done what’cha could,” Daryl said. “More’n most, I’d bet. At least more’n some. You cared enough to get her away.”

“Look how long it took me,” Carol said. 

Daryl laughed quietly to himself.

“An’ no amount of beatin’ yourself up is gonna change shit,” Daryl said. “I’d say you been beat up enough. Why don’t we just—leave it as it is? She don’t seem too bad off. Don’t seem too scarred up. She ain’t rebelled an’ run away or—or got herself some tattoos an’ a boyfriend yet.” He laughed to himself. “A boyfriend with a bike—prob’ly try to piss her Ma off.” 

Carol was struck with laughter from Daryl’s tone and words, but also from the way in which he rolled his eyes in her direction to see if he might get a rise out of her.

“Asshole,” she murmured in his direction. He laughed to himself and stretched his arms before he eased them under Sophia.

“She’s gonna sleep better in the bed,” he said. “An’ when she’s ready to talk—I got all ideas her Ma’ll listen. Sometimes that’s all that somebody really needs. An’ if she’s got a mind to talk to me...well, I ain’t no stranger to old men that’cha’d rather weren’t part of your DNA.”

Daryl eased Sophia up as he stood in a fluid motion that Carol was sure she would have never been able to accomplish. Sophia sagged like a rag doll for a moment before she woke just enough to look around her. 

“Shhhh...sweetheart,” Carol offered. “It’s alright. It’s time for bed. Daryl’s just going to carry you to bed.”

Carol didn’t know how much of her language Sophia understood at the moment, but she looked at her with sleepy eyes, accepted the kiss that Carol pressed to her forehead, and then closed her eyes again and sunk into Daryl. Carol followed him to the small bedroom that she usually shared with Sophia, and she pulled back the covers for Daryl to ease her down into the bed. 

“At least the Greenes gave her a bath before we picked her up,” Carol said, watching Daryl arrange the little girl in the bed. 

“She ain’t brushed her teeth,” Daryl pointed out.

“They’ll survive one night,” Carol said. “I don’t want to wake her up because then she’ll be awake and it’ll take her forever to fall back asleep.” 

Daryl tucked the blankets around Sophia somewhat awkwardly. Carol leaned and kissed her daughter’s forehead again before she rearranged the blankets a little and turned on Sophia’s nightlight. 

“That it?” Daryl asked. “That all there is?” 

“What more did you want there to be?” Carol asked, swallowing down her laughter. Daryl followed her out of the little bedroom and she cracked the door behind them.

“I don’t know,” Daryl said. “To be honest—I ain’t never really put a kid to bed before an’ I don’t remember nobody ever puttin’ me to bed except...except maybe Merle.”

Carol laughed to herself at the image that such a thought conjured up in her mind. She found her cup of coffee again and Daryl gestured to the porch to say that he was stepping out to smoke. Carol followed him. 

“Merle used to tuck you in?” Carol asked.

“Lotta times we’d tuck Mama in wherever it was she passed out,” Daryl said. “Only kinda peace she ever seemed to find was when she could get drunk enough to forget everythin’ that was her life. Didn’t leave much a’ nobody to look after me. Merle—he was a good bit older’n I was. You know that.” Daryl laughed to himself. “He’s been a fuckin’ asshole for as long as I can remember. But—the nights when Mama couldn’t tuck me in...he’d half drag me to bed, stuff me under the covers, an’ tell me to sleep good. It was about as good Merle ever was at tuckin’ nobody in.”

“I’m sorry,” Carol said.

“Don’t be,” Daryl said. “Hell—havin’ Merle as a half-ass parent made up for some of the other half-assin’ that was goin’ on.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Who the hell’s to say that his half-ass parentin’ ain’t what made the difference between me becomin’ a Judge an’ becomin’ a not-so-respected member of the prison community?” 

“As unorthodox as he might be,” Carol said, “I believe he’d make a good father.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Funny as shit to be thinkin’ that,” Daryl said. “But—I got it on good authority that he an’ Andrea’s hopin’ that’s what the hell’s in the cards for them. Like I done told you. Maybe it will be. Maybe—Merle Dixon’ll be soembody’s ole man. If the county don’t take the kid just on principle of who its old man is.”

Carol laughed to herself and sipped at the quickly cooling coffee.

“They’ll be good parents,” Carol said. She cleared her throat. “You’re good with Sophia.”

Daryl hummed.

“You are,” Carol insisted. “Even though you say that you haven’t had much experience with kids, that’s not what it looks like.” 

Daryl hummed again. He leaned against the porch railing, picked at some peeling paint there in the light of Andrea’s outside light to busy his fingers, and focused on his cigarette.

“At the risk of pissin’ you off,” Daryl said. “I like kids. Always—always thought I might like to have a family, ya know? I mean—I know we was bull shittin’ about it earlier an’ I weren’t serious about no twenty or twenty five kids, but I always thought I might like to have a family like—three or four or somethin’.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Be somebody’s old man. Be—ya know—be a good damn husband. Have a chance to make up for all the bad karma that my ole man put into the world with my damned last name on it. Always kinda pissed me off to carry his name, ya know? Like—I was takin’ a piece of him with me every damn where I went. A reminder of what the hell I come from.

Carol swallowed. 

“A reminder of where you came from,” Carol said. “And a reminder that—you can be so much more than what you came from. You are so much more than what you came from, Daryl. Don’t be ashamed of...of what you survived.”

Daryl turned around looked at her. Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat. 

“When you say that,” Daryl said, “do you feel it?” 

“What?” Carol asked.

“When you say that,” Daryl said, “that I oughta not be ashamed of where I come from an’ all the shit that’s happened to me. That I oughta stand proud or some shit in what I survived. You feel it? In your heart? You feel that to be true?” 

Carol swallowed and nodded her head. 

“I do,” she said, finding that her voice had gone into hiding. “I think—you’re a good man, Daryl Dixon.” She smiled to herself. “I think—Dixon is a good name. It’s a strong name. It’s one you should—you should be proud of. It’s a name that belongs to survivors. At least—two of the strongest and...and best men that I’ve had the pleasure of knowing—at least two of those men carry that name. They ought to carry it with pride. I believe that.” 

Daryl swallowed and nodded his head. 

“Alright, then,” he said. “Then—at least I know that...if it was to be you that I was to ask, an’ I ain’t sayin’ it is or that, ya know, that it’s gonna be no time soon, but...at least I know that if it was to be you that I was to ask to carry such a name as that—well—at least I’d know that...I’da found somebody strong enough to carry it. Somebody—able to carry it.” 

Carol’s chest tightened and she swallowed. His tone was sincere. There wasn’t any teasing. 

And Carol’s stomach twisted because she was torn between feeling like she wasn’t ready for such a thing and, at the same time, allowing herself to daydream about what it might be to hear him ask her such a question in sincerity, and she was finding that she didn’t find the prospect as awful as she might have imagined even a few weeks before.

She couldn’t say anything, though, and Daryl finished his cigarette and snubbed it out in the flower pot that Andrea left there for the brothers.

“Don’t worry,” Daryl said. “I ain’t askin’. Just—sayin’. That’s all. I won’t ask you to marry me tonight. But—if you ain’t against it—I will ask ya to go to bed with me. Whatever that means—I’ll let you decide.” 

Carol caught herself breathing out a breath that she’d been holding since it got caught in her chest what seemed like hours ago. 

“Daryl—I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. There was a hint of nervousness to the laugh.

“We still talkin’ about carryin’ my name?” He asked. “Or—we talkin’ about goin’ to bed?” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Right now? I’m still talking about going to bed.”

“Right now?” Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself.

“I’ll let you decide what that means,” she offered.


	51. Chapter 51

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“But if I could, then...then I could. You know?” 

Carol came in on the tail end of a clearly serious breakfast conversation that was being had between Daryl and Sophia. Sophia was leaning toward him, almost leaning into her cereal, and Daryl was listening to her with his face resting on his hand. His furrowed brow, though, showed that he was paying attention—or at least that he understood that it was important to look like he was paying attention. He hummed his understanding at Sophia and she looked at least a little pleased.

Without even asking, Daryl had offered to get Sophia’s breakfast squared away while Carol got ready for work. But, instead of leaving the little girl to eat a bowl of cereal in front of the television like Carol would have been forced to do—and like Carol would have imagined Daryl might have chosen to do—Daryl had sat down at the table to eat cereal with Sophia and to share some conversation with her.

“This sounds like something serious,” Carol said to announce her presence. There was a bowl waiting for her on the counter next to a box of cereal. Carol poured herself a bowl of cereal and quickly filled the bowl with milk before returning the milk carton to the refrigerator. She sat down at the small table and looked back and forth between Sophia and Daryl who were both looking at her. “I feel like I’ve interrupted something. Please don’t stop talking on my account.”

“It’s OK,” Daryl said. “It was a done conversation.”

“What was it about?” Carol asked.

She didn’t miss the exchange between the two of them. There were no words said, but Sophia’s long gaze at Daryl said plenty.

“Secret,” Daryl said. “Don’t matter.”

“We’re keeping secrets now?” Carol asked. Her stomach twisted slightly. She couldn’t imagine at all that it was something bad, but the thought of secrets made her uncomfortable. She’d asked Sophia to keep some secrets in her life, and the things she’d asked her not to mention weren’t good things. “I don’t know if—I don’t know if I like the idea of secrets. I think I like the idea of being honest and open, better.”

Sophia stared at Carol like she was greatly concerned. She glanced back at Daryl. 

“It’s not a secret, Mama,” Sophia offered quietly. She shook her head. “It’s not. No secrets happened. Honest.”

Carol swallowed. 

To Sophia, a secret was usually what happened between her parents. A secret was what happened to her mother. A secret was what Carol was hiding with clothes, and makeup, and sunglasses, and the hope that nobody was paying her much attention. A secret was something not to be mentioned to anyone else. It was something that Sophia didn’t need to worry about—because Carol always told her not to worry—but it wasn’t to be discussed with anyone.

Carol slid her hand across the table and patted Sophia’s.

“It’s OK, sweetheart,” Carol offered. “Eat your cereal.”

Daryl didn’t know the history behind secrets in their home, but the way that he flicked his eyes at Carol and back at his own cereal told her that he was somewhat figuring it out. He cleared his throat. 

“Not a secret,” he said. “Not for real. Not like—a bad thing. Just—was just a conversation. Between me an’ Soph. That’s all. Weren’t nothin’ bad. Just—private.” 

Carol’s chest contracted a little and she found that she had to swallow down against something she didn’t expect to be there. She nodded her head.

“It’s OK,” she said, offering reassurance to Daryl in much the same way she had to Sophia. “It’s fine to have things that—good things—that we save just for—just for someone in particular.”

“Only good things,” Daryl assured her.

Carol smiled to herself. His need to reassure her was palpable. A bit more hidden, perhaps, but also there, was his need to be reassured. 

“Only good things,” she said. She searched for something that would allow her to change the subject and, hopefully, the feeling in the air around them. She wanted them all to head to school and work on a positive note, after all. “Sophia—do you have your show and tell item for the day?” 

Sophia perked up. Her earlier sadness slowly evaporated. She nodded her head enthusiastically and left the table—and her soggy cereal—for a moment before returning with her backpack. She pulled the zipper open and produced a Ziploc bag which held a mostly crushed pile of twigs and leaves.

Carol swallowed back her laughter.

“That’s—beautiful, sweetheart,” Carol said. “What is it?”

“It’s a nest,” Sophia said. “Me an’ Mr. Hershel founded it. It was up in a tree and he said it was from last year, but it was a bird’s home. They leave them, though, when they’re done living there. He said their babies all grew up an’ they went on to live somewhere else, so they wouldn’t mind if I borrowed their old house to take to show an’ tell to tell them about my weekend. It’s got—you see that, Mama? It’s got a feather right there an’ we couldn’t tell what kinda feather it was because they was a lot of birds that was there last year an’ they had a lotta feathers that was kinda this color, but it’s probably one of their feathers.” 

“There’s a family of birds that builds a nest in this one corner of the shop damn near every spring,” Daryl offered. “They leave for the winter, but they come back. Throw the whole damn thing out on the floor an’ start over like they old nest wasn’t no good. Sit up there hollerin’ the whole time an’ then they lay eggs. We hear the lil’ birds hollerin’, too, when they hatch.”

Sophia turned her gaze, wide-eyed, on Daryl.

“And you let ‘em live there?” Sophia asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I mean, yeah,” he said. “’Til they grow up. Fly off. They leave when they’re ready to leave. We let ‘em go, of course. They ain’t pets. But they come back. The big ones, at least.”

“I wanna see!” Sophia declared loudly.

Carol shushed her without even thinking about it. She silently reprimanded herself. There was really no harm done in Sophia getting excited about the prospect of seeing birds who lived freely and happily in the corner of a shop. 

It was just habit, and habits died hard.

Daryl thought Sophia’s enthusiasm was funny.

“They ain’t there right now,” he said. “Startin’ to get cold. They moved on already. But they’ll be back next year. You can see ‘em when they come back. We’ll even get the ladder out. Let’cha see the babies when they all hatched out they eggs.” 

Before it even came, Carol saw it coming. Sophia practically swung in her direction.

“Can I, Mama?” She begged.

Carol laughed to herself.

“Of course you can,” Carol said. “But—finish your cereal, Sophia. We’re going to be late if you don’t.”

Sophia picked up her spoon to fish a few pieces of soggy cereal out of her bowl and shove them in her mouth. 

“Spring is an awful long time away, Daryl,” Sophia said.

Daryl snorted across the table. He quickly covered it over by filling his own mouth with a spoonful of cereal.

“Whether it is or it ain’t,” he said around the food, “it ain’t like there’s nothin’ I can do about it. Time’s been movin’ at the same speed since it started movin’, I guess. We just gotta wait it out.”

“It’ll come,” Carol offered. “Slow or fast.”

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

“You pissed about this mornin’?” Daryl asked. He hadn’t even made it out of the school driveway from dropping Sophia off. 

“What do you mean?” Carol asked.

“The secret thing?” Daryl asked. “You pissed at me? ‘Cause it weren’t Soph that said it was no secret. She just said—said it was somethin’ she wanted to talk to me about. She didn’t say no secret. That was me. So if you gonna be pissed—just don’t be pissed at her.”

“Did I seem pissed?” Carol asked.

“A little,” Daryl said. “At the table, maybe. You got better, but...it weren’t nothin’ bad.”

Carol swallowed. She reached for Daryl’s cigarettes on the dash. They were just out of reach and he handed them to her before he produced a lighter from his pocket and handed her that as well. She lit a cigarette and rolled down her own window. 

“A secret—the whole time that Sophia’s been growing up and since she could talk...since she could understand—a secret has meant the same thing,” Carol said.

“What happens in the house—it don’t leave the house,” Daryl said. “It ain’t nobody’s fuckin’ business what happens with our family. We don’t want everybody runnin’ their mouths about us.”

Carol swallowed several times.

“You’ve heard the definition of a secret before, I see,” she said.

Daryl laughed to himself. He took a cigarette for himself. Carol noticed his hands were shaking slightly. Sometimes they trembled, particularly when she watched him doing something delicate, but this was something different entirely. She chose not to draw attention to it.

“Ain’t we all?” He commented. She doubted, though, that he found any of the humor in it that he pretended to find.

“I hope not everybody has,” Carol said. “I wish Sophia hadn’t.”

“She’ll forget,” Daryl said. “Especially—if she sees that there gets to be other secrets. Good secrets.” He cleared his throat. “Especially if she sees them bad kinda secrets? They just kinda stopped bein’ a thing.” 

“Maybe I should have let her have this secret,” Carol said.

“Maybe I’ll talk to her,” Daryl said. “If you don’t care, I mean. Tell her—it gets to be a secret? Until it ain’t, I mean. I mean—if you don’t, ya know, mind...that we got a secret—I mean.”

Carol laughed to herself. 

“What?” Daryl asked suddenly. She didn’t miss the tinge of defensiveness in his tone.

“Nothing,” she said softly. “I was just thinking—thinking an asshole thought.”

“About me?” Daryl asked.

“Not really,” Carol said. “But—yes.”

“Good or bad asshole?” Daryl asked.

“What do you mean?” Carol asked.

“Good asshole like—like you fuckin’ with me asshole or like—like...like the people we was talkin’ about causin’ fucked up secrets asshole? What kinda asshole thought?” 

“Good asshole,” Carol said with a laugh.

“Then I wanna hear it,” Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself again.

“I was just thinking—because you said it a couple of times—I was thinking...why don’t you just tell me what you mean, Daryl?” 

Daryl was quiet for a moment and then he laughed to himself.

“Merle used to say I got so damned excited sometimes that I’d run ahead and come back around to meet myself ‘fore I ever finished a whole sentence,” Daryl said. 

“I was just teasing,” Carol said. “I wouldn’t want you to change.”

“Don’t think I could even if you wanted it,” Daryl said. “Happens without me thinkin’ about it.” 

“The—secret—between you and Sophia,” Carol said. “It’s not something bad...”

“No,” Daryl said. “Not at all.”

“It’s not her bothering you?” Carol asked.

“Botherin’ me?” 

“Because—you don’t have to do anything for her, Daryl. She’s not your responsibility and I’m not going to expect you to—to take care of her and handle everything for her. If she’s bothering you...”

Daryl’s hand landed on Carol’s thigh and he squeezed the muscle there. The sensation stopped Carol from speaking immediately. In a case like that, Ed might reach his hand over and rest it on her leg. He might even squeeze her thigh. What would follow, though, would be a hard and sustained pinch that would sometimes suck Carol’s breath out of her chest. It was a very discreet way for him to warn her that he was tiring of her. 

Daryl’s touch wasn’t like that at all. He squeezed her thigh, yes, but it was affectionate. He repeated the motion like he was massaging the muscle. He touched her to get her attention—not to warn her, but to soothe her.

Carol’s heart beat rapidly in her chest.

When she quieted, though, Daryl spoke.

“Sophia don’t bother me,” Daryl said. “She’s just a kid. An’ she ain’t old enough to make me do a single damned thing that I don’t wanna do. You ain’t gonna make me do shit that I don’t wanna do, neither. I’m a grown ass man an’ it’s been a long damn time since I let a single other livin’ soul make me do somethin’ that I ain’t wanted. But that don’t mean that I ain’t gonna do shit ‘cause I wanna do it—or ‘cause it makes me happy. Soph don’t bother me. But—please don’t let thinkin’ she does make it so that you somehow make her think she bothers me. ‘Cause that’s the last damn thing I’d want her to go to bed thinkin’ at night.”

Carol swallowed and nodded her head. She dropped her hand over Daryl’s where it rested now on her thigh.

“I’m sorry,” she said. He offered her another gentle squeeze in response. “I didn’t mean to do that if I did. I don’t want her to feel like she can’t talk to you, but I also don’t want you to feel...”

“Like he felt,” Daryl interrupted. Carol swallowed and hummed in the affirmative. “But I ain’t him.”

“Not at all,” Carol offered.

“So please don’t make me prove it,” Daryl said. “At least—not every day.”

“You already do,” Carol said.

“You know what I mean,” Daryl said.

“I do,” Carol said with a sigh. “And—I’m sorry.”

“And please don’t keep tellin’ me you sorry,” Daryl said. “Makes me feel like I’m scoldin’ you. Puttin’ you in some kinda place. I don’t wanna do that shit, neither.”

“Was it a good secret?” Carol asked. “I mean—I know it wasn’t bad. I mean—was it something you enjoy?”

Daryl smiled to himself. This time it was sincere.

“You know—I did enjoy it. I think—I think you gonna like it, too.”

“You mean I get to know about it?” Carol asked.

“When it’s time,” Daryl said. He was watching Carol out the corner of his eye when she looked at him. There was just the hint of a smirk on his face. “That OK with you?” He asked. “If it’s just between me an’ Soph for a bit?” 

 

Carol smiled to herself. She nodded.

“It’s fine with me,” she said. “Just as long as everybody’s happy.”


	52. Chapter 52

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

“I gotta admit, brother,” Merle said, “when you was hoppin’ the fuck around here tellin’ me about a custom bike, I had somethin’ a lil’ different come to mind.”

Daryl smiled as he peered into the box of assorted pieces. To many people, it would look like a box of junk because they wouldn’t know what they had. He’d known immediately, though, who to call to get what he wanted. The man was a craftsman—a true artist in Daryl’s opinion—and bikes were his medium. He had never requested to be a Judge, or even to be considered for membership in the club. Once he’d even turned down an invitation that had been offered to him. 

They called him Puddin’ Tane, or simply Puddin’ for short, and Daryl wasn’t sure that he’d ever actually heard the man’s real name, just as the nursery rhyme from which he’d acquired his name suggested. His shop, even, was named Puddin’s Place and, as far as Daryl knew, very few people questioned him about his name beyond his response “Puddin’ Tane, ask me again, I’ll tell ya the same.”

At probably knocking somewhere around the age of sixty-five, Puddin’ had done a great deal of work for the Judges. He’d also done a great deal of work for bikers that came from near and far because of his ability to build custom pieces that they could only imagine up and, without much skill, perhaps sketch onto a napkin or something of the like. 

Puddin’s sculpting abilities didn’t stop at bikes. He would make just about anything for the right price.

When he worked for the Judges, though, he was usually happy to do work for them that got swapped off for work he needed from them. He’d been more than happy to help Daryl with his request when Daryl had called. In payment, he’d only taken one afternoon of Daryl’s time talking shit, and the promise of a meal fit for a king down at the Chambers one evening to meet Daryl’s brand new Old Lady. Daryl had been more than willing to pay for the work, but Puddin’ wouldn’t hear of it.

It hadn’t taken him more than a week to complete Daryl’s order—mostly because he kept most of the parts around since the order was something that wasn’t entirely uncommon and happened to be one of his specialties—but Daryl felt like he’d been waiting a month to get the parts. 

He was every bit as excited about the bike as he would have been if it were meant for him.

Merle stood next to the purple Schwinn that Daryl had rolled into the shop earlier and smoked his cigarette while Daryl laid the parts out on the tarp that he’d spread on the floor. 

“Gonna be a good-lookin’ bike when I get done paintin’ it and puttin’ it together,” Daryl said. 

“You playin’ fast an’ loose with the word bike, brother,” Merle said with a laugh.

Daryl ignored him.

“Purple,” he said. “That iridescent purple—you know the one. Hot damn color. Gonna look fuckin’ good. Got decals on order, too. Silver. Gonna clear coat it to make sure they don’t peel.”

“It’s got trainin’ wheels, Daryl,” Merle pointed out.

“She ain’t but a lil’ bitty thing,” Daryl said. “Ain’t never had no bike before. Gonna paint the helmet, too. Same purple.”

“Seems like a waste to me, brother,” Merle said. “Kids—they grow like weeds. Ain’t gonna be long ‘fore she don’t fit this bike. If she even fits it now.”

“She’ll fit it just fine,” Daryl said. “Might even be a touch big for her.”

“Still—that paint ain’t cheap at all to waste it like that,” Merle said.

“It ain’t no waste to me, Merle,” Daryl said. “I ain’t had no bike, neither, when I was her age. Didn’t get no bike ‘til I was seven an’ that kid from down the street got a bike when his was still just fine. Mama got his old one for me an’ give it to me for Christmas an’ it was the best damned gift I ever got.”

Merle chuckled to himself.

“Hell—I remember how damn happy you was. Dancin’ around an’ shit. Damn near pissed on the floor that mornin’. You was outside bustin’ your ass tryin’ to ride it ‘fore Mama was even up.” 

Daryl smiled to himself. 

“She acted like it was Santa that brung it from all the way down the street,” Daryl said. “I remember how damn surprised she acted. Almost had me believin’ in the old ass bastard deliverin’ toys in the middle of the night.”

Merle laughed.

“She was actin’ surprised like that ‘cause she was,” Merle said. “Fuck—I guess you old enough to know it, Daryl. There ain’t no Santy Clause.”

“Fuck you, Merle,” Daryl said, laughing to himself. “I know there ain’t no Santa Clause. I reckon I knowed it when I was about Sophia’s age. I was plenty good enough that I’da got me that bike sooner from Santa if he were real.”

“Only reason you didn’t is ‘cause weren’t nobody sellin’ one that I could afford ‘fore that kid down the street let me buy his old one off him for sixty bucks,” Merle said. 

Daryl’s stomach twisted. He swallowed and looked at Merle. 

“You mean you...”

Merle raised his eyebrows.

“She acted fuckin’ surprised because she was good an’ fuckin’ surprised, brother,” Merle said. He laughed again. “She couldn’t hardly put the food on the table an’ keep the lights on without my help. Damn it—if you gonna do it, you oughta do it right. I’ll go down to the hardware store tomorrow. Get her a bell. Some of them—you know them...them things. Them things that—come out from the handlebars.”

“Streamers?” Daryl asked.

“That’s it,” Merle said. “Girls like them sparkly things like that.”

Daryl smiled to himself.

“She wanted a bike, Merle, so she could be an official unofficial Judge,” Daryl said. “She might not think it’d be proper for a bike to have no handlebar streamers. I think she was hopin’ for kinda girly badass.”

Merle shrugged his shoulders. 

“An’ some people mighta thought it weren’t proper for the Judges to have no Alice, either, but her ass is there—bigger’n shit. Besides—streamers are fuckin’ badass. Tell her—looks like lightnin’ comin’ right out the side there.”

Daryl laughed to himself and helped himself to a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Lightnin’. That’s real badass. The parts are detachable, Merle. She outgrows this bike, I can move ‘em to another.”

“Smart,” Merle said. “They’ll last her a good long time.”

“Maybe until she’s ready for a real one,” Daryl said. 

“Carol know about this?” Merle asked. “The bike, I mean, not that you already thinkin’ her lil’ kid’s gonna want her a real damn Fat Boy someday.”

“Soph wanted it to be somethin’ that I didn’t tell her Ma about,” Daryl said. “You think that’s wrong, Merle? You think I oughta tell Carol about it?” 

“I think it’s a bad idea to keep secrets when the shine ain’t even off your relationship,” Merle said.

Daryl frowned at him. 

“Carol don’t like presents,” Daryl said. “Gets uptight if I even just bring her a candy bar like I would Andrea or damn near anybody. What if she don’t want Sophia to have her no bike an’ Soph’s wantin’ one? What if she’s thinkin’ that—that I’m thinkin’ that I gotta do it or somethin’?”

Merle sighed. He walked over, leaned down, and picked up one of the pieces to the fake gas tank that Daryl would assemble onto the small bicycle once it was painted and ready to go.

“She wouldn’t have to look at this but a minute to see that’cha heart’s in the right damned place, Daryl,” Merle said. “An’ you ain’t tryin’ to buy her love or nothin’. Hell—I reckon you’d probably give this bike to that kid if she weren’t your Ole Lady’s kid.”

Daryl swallowed. He didn’t know if he would or he wouldn’t. He hadn’t been around children very much. There weren’t that many around that he got the opportunity to interact with. Michonne had little kids, but she didn’t allow them around the club too often. Still, he had dinner with Michonne and Tyreese a couple of times and he’d always liked taking something for her girls whenever he saw them. He supposed that if one of them had been desperate for a bike and Michonne hadn’t made more than enough money lawyering to buy them one, that he’d probably have done just the same for them.

Daryl nodded.

“I just remember how that bike made me feel,” Daryl said. “Like—I had some freedom. Some claim to the world, ya know?”

Merle sucked his teeth and nodded. He put the gas tank piece back on the tarp. 

“I’ll get the bell an’ the handlebar things,” Merle said. “You can tell Sophia that—Santy Clause brung ‘em.” He laughed to himself.

“It’s early for Santa Clause,” Daryl said.

“Yeah—well, he had some time,” Merle said. “Talk to Carol.”

“And if she don’t want her to have it?” Daryl asked.

Merle shook his head.

“That ain’t how you talk to her,” Merle said. “You tell her—just like you told me. Tell her what the hell that bicycle meant to your scrawny, knobby-kneed ass. Tell her—why the hell you wanna give Sophia the bike an’ why the hell you’d wanna give it to any damn kid. While you at it, you tell her why the fuck you wanna bring her that candy bar from time to time or a soda or some shit, an’ you tell her why it is that’cha wish she’d just take it an’ give you a lil’ kiss an’ a smile for it instead of lookin’ like you wrestled up a half-eaten squirrel to drop at her feet. An’ then, brother, when you done tellin’ her what the hell it is that’cha gotta tell her, then you sit your ass down, open them awkward shaped ears you got, an’ you listen to why the hell it is that she gets so low when you give her somethin’. An’ you don’t stop listenin’ until you’re clear she’s done tellin’.”

Daryl frowned at Merle, but he nodded his head.

“What if she don’t got nothin’ to say about it?” Daryl asked. “About why she don’t like it, I mean.”

“She’s got plenty to say about it,” Merle said. “Whether she says it or she don’t. Andrea’s taught me one thing if she ain’t taught me nothin’ else, and that’s that they always got somethin’ to say when somethin’ gnaws at ‘em like that.”

“What if she don’t wanna say it?” Daryl asked.

Merle laughed.

“Then you sit your happy ass down an’ you wait her out,” Merle said. “Make it so she knows that you gonna sit right there an’ you gonna wait—just as long as you damn well have to. It usually don’t take that long. Half an hour at most. Just long enough that they see you’re serious an’ you really is gonna wait. She’ll tell you—‘cause deep down she wants it off her chest. An’ you done made it clear that you want it off her chest, too.”

“You think she’s gonna let Soph have the bike?” Daryl asked.

Merle hummed. 

“An’ if she don’t, I’ll put Andrea on her to talk some sense into her,” Merle said. “But—the car? Runnin’ an’ all, it better come from me.”

“Too much?” Daryl asked.

Carol was still insisting on paying for what it took to get the car she’d come to town in road ready, but it would take her too long to scrape up the money. Besides that, she needed the money to pay the taxes on the car.

“I’ma call it a job perk,” Merle said. “An’ she can’t argue with her boss.”

Daryl nodded.

“Thank you,” Daryl said. 

“Hell—it ain’t like we gotta pay for the labor,” Merle said. “And what the hell’s a couple hundred bucks for a good damn employee that’s willin’ to work wherever I send her?” 

“I meant for—ya know—the talk,” Daryl said.

Merle laughed to himself. He nodded, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he helped himself to another cigarette and walked over to the workbench where he’d left the soda that he’d been drinking earlier to sweat for a little while. 

“I ain’t asked you,” Daryl said, “and you ain’t offered. What about Andrea?”

“I ain’t asked official yet,” Merle said. “But—I got a ring. Waitin’ for the right time, I guess.”

“An’ the kid?” Daryl asked.

“Still fuckin’ Schrodinger’s baby,” Merle said. He drained what was left of his drink and causally walked over to the trash barrel to toss the can. He belched loudly and it echoed in the shop. “I can’t get her ass to piss on the stick. She’s too damned scared it’s gonna come back sayin’ it ain’t there. I’m about to the point of puttin’ her hand in some warm water while she sleeps. Gettin’ the job done for myself. I told her that it don’t matter no way. We’ll keep tryin’ or whatever. Just—just so we know, ya know? So she can—she oughta see a doctor or somethin’ if there’s a kid in there. Make sure it’s in there right or—whatever the hell they do.”

“Prob’ly like sooner rather than later,” Daryl offered, though he really knew relatively little about it. He figured it wasn’t hurting anything to wait a bit. Babies had been born without doctors before, after all.

“You might tell the Mouse that—she might talk to Andrea about it. Get her to piss on the stick. You might tell her that—a certain asshole would owe her a favor if she done it.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“I’ll mention it,” Daryl said. “Once I’ve done got her to talk—ya know—about everything.”

Merle hummed at him.

“I gotta get up to the Chambers,” he said. “Friday night can get a lil’ wild. Don’t wanna leave ‘em all unsupervised all night. When you wanna talk to her?” 

“Tonight, I guess,” Daryl said. 

Merle nodded at him.

“I’ll take Andrea to our place,” Merle said. “Swap out for the night. You can crash at Andrea’s house.”

“Appreciate it,” Daryl said.

“You clean this up ‘fore you leave,” Merle said.

“I will,” Daryl said.

“What’cha want me to tell your woman in the meantime?” Merle asked.

“Workin’ late,” Daryl said. “I’ll handle the rest when I pick her up tonight at the Chambers.”

Merle nodded and started out of the shop.

“See that’cha do, brother.”


	53. Chapter 53

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

“We didn’t have a damned thing when I was a kid,” Daryl said. “Old man pissed away anything he got. Mama could hardly keep us goin’. I guess Merle was puttin’ food on the table from the time he was old enough to steal it. Hell—older I get, the more I’m realizin’ how much damn weight fell down on Merle’s shoulders. No wonder he went a lil’ fuckin’ wild every now an’ again an’ fucked some shit up. I didn’t know it back then, though. He hid it from me.”

“Daryl—I’m so sorry,” Carol said. She rested her hand on his leg. They sat outside at Andrea’s, enjoying the porch and the quiet of night. The screen door was open, and they could hear if Sophia stirred from her sleep. 

“I ain’t tellin’ you this ‘cause I want you to say sorry for somethin’ you ain’t had nothing to do with or because I want your sympathy or pity or whatever,” Daryl said. “I’m just wantin’ you to understand me. Where I come from. That I grew up without a pot to piss in, Carol.”

Carol nodded.

“I understand,” she said.

Daryl mirrored her nod.

“When I was a kid—I wanted a bike somethin’ awful. Maybe all kids do,” Daryl said.

“You mean a motorcycle?” Carol asked.

“No, I mean a bike,” Daryl said. “You know—a bike. For ridin’ around the neighborhood. I was prob’ly younger’n Sophia when I started wantin’ one. I was older’n her when I finally got me one. I just found out today, actually, that it was Merle that got me one in the end. It was the best gift I remember getting.”

“That was sweet of him,” Carol said. She wasn’t being insincere, but Daryl could see on her face that she was confused. She didn’t know, after all, what was prompting Daryl to share the story with her. 

“Hell—I spent most the day tryin’ to come up with some kinda way to talk to you about this,” Daryl said. “But—I don’t got a single thing that’s better than just sayin’ what I got to say and hopin’ to hell you hear me.”

Daryl didn’t miss that Carol set her jaw. He saw the tension in her muscles. He saw her eyes widen for a flash of a second before they returned to their normal size with just a slight glaze of fear covering over them. He shook his head at her.

“It ain’t bad,” he offered softly. “And—I would never hurt you. Not on purpose.”

He saw her relax. Slowly, she let go of some of the tension that had flooded her system without her even planning for it to happen. She let out the breath that she had probably been unaware that she was holding. Her expression softened.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Carol offered quietly.

“Maybe your brain does,” Daryl said. “Somewhere. But your instinct doesn’t. Not yet. An’ that’s OK. It’s gonna catch up eventually—hopefully.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“You don’t say that like you’re a hundred percent sure,” Carol said.

“It’s been a long damn time,” Daryl said. “An’ I still jump if I ever hear that snappin’ sound that sounds like leather poppin’ against somethin’.” 

Carol leaned into him and Daryl rearranged himself so that he could simply hold her against him as they sat on the porch. He felt the waves of tension in her body—tense, release, tense, release. He gave her a moment to finally settle on the relaxation. He moved just enough to kiss the side of her head and she nuzzled him.

“Sophia—she was tellin’ me the other mornin’ about how the kids at school talk about ridin’ their bikes in the park,” Daryl said. He ran his hand up and down Carol’s arm, savoring the feeling of her resting against him. It felt good to him. It felt natural. It felt like something that he’d simultaneously been missing all his life, and it felt like something that seemed to have simply been a part of him forever. “There’s a trail down there. An’ she was sayin’ that she could—ya know—be somethin’ like a Judge if she just had her a bike that she could ride.”

“Sophia knows that I can’t afford a bike right now,” Carol said.

“She does,” Daryl said. “An’ that’s why she was talkin’ to me about it.”

Carol sat up and faced Daryl again. She shook her head. She frowned at him.

“She had no right to ask you for anything, Daryl,” Carol said. “And I don’t want you feeling like...”

Daryl held a hand up and stopped her.

“Can I please have the chance to tell you what I’m thinkin’ without you tellin’ me what I’m feeling?” Daryl asked. “I promise I’ll give you your chance to tell me what you’re feelin’, but let me be the one to say what I’m feelin’, OK?” 

“I’m sorry,” Carol offered quietly.

“I don’t want’cha to be sorry,” Daryl said. “I just—wanna speak.”

“Go ahead,” Carol offered.

Daryl nodded his head. 

“I know somebody. Man named Puddin’. At least—that’s what we call him. Makes just about anythin’ you can dream up, but he makes custom parts an’ helmets an’ all. One of his specialties is these parts that you attach to a regular, everyday bicycle. Looks like a lil’ Harley, but it ain’t one, of course. Soph—she’s comin’ outta a raw deal, too.”

“I wish she had never...”

“Shhhh,” Daryl offered. “I weren’t suggestin’ that it was nothin’ you did wrong. I said it before, you’ve done what’cha could. You got her outta there an’ there ain’t no need in talking about it anymore. We don’t go backwards. None of us do. But—she’s still comin’ outta something. And she’s a real good kid. Does what you ask her to. She don’t never act up. Don’t cause no trouble. She don’t talk about her old man, but you can be sure the asshole—he’s in there somewhere. In her mind. Maybe—she don’t even know it yet, but he’s in there. Maybe she deserves somethin’ good. Somethin’ that she wants. Somethin’ that’s special an’ it’s all her own. Somethin’ to really hold onto.”

Carol chewed at her lip and examined the floor of Andrea’s porch with enough concentration that Daryl might have been convinced that she could tell him how many nails had been used to put the thing together.

“You already bought it,” Carol said.

“You gonna tell me to go to hell?” Daryl asked.

“I told you that I didn’t like...I asked you not to buy me things,” Carol said.

Daryl swallowed hard and fast. Inappropriate laughter bubbled up in him and he wanted to choke it down to save himself. Carol wasn’t going to find anything amusing—not at this precise moment. 

“I didn’t buy it for you,” he said. “I bought it for Sophia. And, maybe, I bought it just a little bit for me. For—for the kid I used to be. All scraped knees an’ accustomed to Merle damn near draggin’ my ass around by the scruff of my neck. Maybe I bought it for me, too.”

Carol flicked her eyes in his direction, then, and Daryl didn’t miss that there were tears brimming in them. He didn’t ask, for a moment, if the tears were for what he’d done or what he’d said. 

“You don’t have to buy her things,” Carol said.

Daryl laughed, then. He didn’t try to swallow it down.

“I don’t have to do shit that I don’t want to do,” Daryl said. 

“Why is that always your answer?” Carol asked. “Why is that Andrea’s answer to everything? Merle’s?” 

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

“Because we built our family—all of us—on doin’ what we do ‘cause we want to do it. Not because someone’s forcin’ us into it. People are quick to give you all the credit for anything bad you done. You done it because you’re an asshole. A fuck up. But they take away that autonomy when you do somethin’ good. Suddenly—you’re doin’ it ‘cause someone or somethin’ requires it of you. It just ain’t so. We do what the hell we do ‘cause that’s what we wanna do. The good an’ the bad. She wants a bike, Carol. It ain’t no big thing. An’ it means more to me than I’ve got the breath to explain that she sat across from me an’ told me that—all quiet like—like it was something just between us. Because—Carol—maybe she’s got some shit feelin’s for her old man that she ain’t talked about yet. But—she sees somethin’ in me that means she ain’t holding that against me. It’s a big damn deal to me. A good kid like that—she sees somethin’ in me that makes her not hold him against me. And—more’n that? Carol—she’s seen all of us. Been up to the Chambers an’ down to the shop. She’s lookin’ at all of us an’ she don’t see no bikers scarin’ the shit outta her.” He smiled to himself. “She’s seen all of us an’ she’s thinkin’—hey—I might like to be that, too. It’s just a bike, Carol. But it’s a helluva lot more’n a bike.”

Carol’s tears rushed out then in a sudden flood and Daryl reached for her. She came, willingly, and let him hold her against his chest the way that he wanted to. She curled into him, nearly coming into his lap, and he held her while she cried out everything she seemed to need to cry out. 

He was certain that the tears over the bike and his sentiments regarding the bike ran out pretty early on, but a woman like Carol—she had a lot that she needed to get out. And there was more room out than there was in, so he simply held her while she gave it up and released it to the world.

When she was finally in control of the sobbing, she sat up and Daryl offered her the handkerchief that he was in the habit of keeping.

“It ain’t perfectly clean but—it’s better’n nothing,” Daryl offered.

Carol thanked him for it and quickly wiped her face with it before she wiped at her nose.

“I want her to have the bike,” Carol said. “I want her to have—the confidence. I want her to have the motto that she doesn’t do anything that she doesn’t want to do and I want her to want to do all good things. I want her to have the world, Daryl. All of the—all of the good and...none of the bad. I wish I could take away all the bad from her...”

“So why was you just about to get upset about me givin’ her the bike?”

“He HATED to spend his money,” Carol said. “He hated it. He—hated it.”

Daryl nodded his head. The sobbing was still there, to some degree, and it broke up her words. It sent them out in bursts and quiet whispers without warning. He waited her out while she repeated the same line over and over again, clearly seeking some way to move on but feeling stuck there. 

He waited her out, just like Merle had told him to do, and he found that his brother was right. Eventually Carol moved on from the first thought.

“He hated it so much that—he used to watch our finances. He would give me an allowance. Everything—it had to come out of that allowance and if I needed more for anything, he was going to be pissed off. Money made him angrier than anything else. Money made him—furious. I stopped going to the hospital when he’d—even when it was really bad. I stopped going. I learned to do stitches myself. I learned—I learned to put bones back into place. He dislocated my shoulder so many times that...I could almost do it without even feeling the pain anymore. It wasn’t worth what it would cost to go to the ER. It wasn’t worth how much I’d pay for it when the bills came in. I would have rather died. When Sophia was born—he was so mad. It was so expensive. I was so scared. She was—so new and so small, Daryl. She weighed just at five pounds and...she was so fragile. They sent us home with the bill and I had just come in the house and I’d just put her down and—he hit me. She was brand new and he was—already hitting me. And I provoked him. I kept him hitting me. Because I was afraid that—he might get bored. He might move on and he’d hurt her.”

“Hey,” Daryl said, catching Carol by the shoulders and shaking her gently. “You can keep talkin’ an you can keep telling me all this. All night if you want. I wanna hear it. Every bit of it. But—you gotta breathe, too. OK? You gotta—come out of it a lil’ bit. Looks like you getting swallowed up in it and I need you to remember that—it’s all just what you’re remembering. OK? It ain’t real. Not no more. He ain’t here. And I don’t think he’s got a set of brass balls big enough to set foot back in Liberty without a police escort. Sophia? She’s in there in the bed. Sleepin’ good with that doll that Andrea give her. Maybe even dreamin’ of what her bike’s gonna look like when she takes over the park as the President of the park chapter of the Judges. You’re here with me. Just me. And I won’t put my hand on neither of you—especially not for somethin’ as stupid as money. So you can tell me your story. You can tell me all your stories, but I need you to remember that they’re just stories now. You gotta breathe a little. And—you gotta understand that money? It just don’t mean that much to me. What I give, I give ‘cause I want to. Not because I expect nothin’ for it. And not because I wanna hold it over your head later.”

Carol looked at him. He watched her throat bob with the rapid succession of swallows that followed. She shook her head at him.

“He never minded either,” she said. “Until he did.”

Daryl nodded. 

Her experience with her husband was different than his had been with his father. His father had always been an asshole. He’d been an asshole for Daryl’s entire life. Like Sophia, he’d never known his father in any other form or fashion.

Carol, however, had known her husband as something else before she’d known him as the monster that he’d become.

“I understand,” Daryl said. He raised his eyebrows and he shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all I got, really. I understand. And—I promise you that I don’t do what I do out of any sense of obligation. I can’t undo the past no more than you can. The only thing I can do is—promise you that I never had a whole lot, so money’s never meant that much to me. And—I don’t change my mind too regularly.”

Carol laughed to herself and wiped at some of the tears that were continuing to trick down her cheeks.

“Why do you even care?” She asked.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“Why—why would you even care about me, Daryl? With this? With all of this? There has...” She broke off and laughed. This time the laughter sounded a bit more genuine. “There has got to be a woman that would be easier for you. Someone that’s easier to deal with. Someone who’s everything that you deserve...”

“Why don’t you let me decide what I deserve, OK?” Daryl asked.

“I’m sorry,” Carol said. “I keep putting words in your mouth.”

Daryl shook his head. 

“It ain’t that,” Daryl said. “It’s that you keep puttin’ his words in my mouth. And—I don’t like the taste of ‘em. You wanna know why? I’ll tell you why. You—not him. It’s ‘cause I’m a real picky sonofabitch. But I know what the hell I like. And if I like it—well, it’s worth whatever the hell it takes. That’s just how I feel about shit.”

Carol’s smile was even more sincere. Daryl felt warmth spread through his belly. He found the redness of her nose and cheeks somewhat endearing, though he wished they hadn’t come from so much pain. He smiled back at her. 

“I won’t say you deserve it,” Carol said, “because you asked me not to, but...you could do so much better.”

“His words,” Daryl offered.

“I’m serious there are...”

“I’m serious,” Daryl said. “His damn words.” He laughed to himself. Rather than being upset, Carol found his interruption funny, and it was contagious.

“I’m just saying that...” Carol started again.

“You’re sayin’ everything he taught you to say!” Daryl said, cutting her off once more. She laughed and he echoed it. Finally, feeling that she’d be receptive to it, Daryl brought his hand up and brushed his knuckles against her damp cheek. She closed her eyes. Tears were still hanging in her eyelashes. “Please say you gonna let her have the bike,” Daryl said. 

“I want her to have it,” Carol said, not opening her eyes.

“Please say—you gonna at least try...just try...to stop puttin’ his words in my mouth,” Daryl said. “I know it’s gonna take you a long time. An’ I know old habits die hard. But...say you gonna at least try.”

Carol opened her eyes to him.

“What if I don’t know what his words are and what are mine anymore?” Carol asked. 

Daryl nodded. 

“I understand. He’s got all tangled up in your head. His script has done took over. I get it. Still hear my old man. I know Merle does, too. Sometimes—it takes the help of other people to stop hearin’ his voice. To realize that it’s his voice all along.”

Carol nodded.

“I hear him all the time,” she said. 

“You like it?” Daryl asked. “What he says to you?” 

Carol shook her head. 

“No,” she admitted.

“Then you work on it,” Daryl said. “That’s all.”

“How?” Carol asked.

“Repeat after me,” Daryl said.

Carol smiled at him. 

Jesus.

His heart nearly pounded out of his chest when she smiled at him like that and he knew that the smile was for him and only for him. 

“You ready?” He asked, nearly choking on his own words. She nodded. “Thank you for the bike for Soph. It’s a real nice gift.”

“Thank you for the bike for—Soph,” Carol said. “It’s a real nice gift.”

Daryl nodded his head. 

“Good. You doin’ good. Now—now how about—I’m so glad I picked you out of all the potential assholes that I coulda ended up with.”

“Daryl!” 

“You gotta say it,” Daryl said. “It’s in the rules.”

Carol laughed to herself. Her cheeks flushed a darker pink.

“I’m so glad I picked you out of all the potential—sweethearts—that I could have ended up with.” Daryl laughed to himself. “Was that alright?” Carol asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just don’t say it too loud. I got a reputation to uphold, you know?” 

Carol laughed low in her throat. 

“We’ll keep it between us,” Carol said. 

Daryl raised his eyebrows at Carol.

“You know—it’s a good woman who’ll keep a man’s secrets,” he offered.

She smiled to herself. She raised her eyebrows back at him.

“Any woman will keep a man’s secrets,” Carol said. “But—it’s the good secrets that she’ll enjoy keeping.”

“Can you keep one more?” Daryl asked. Carol hummed at him. “Please don’t tell Soph I told you about the bike.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Carol assured him. “After all—I want Sophia to learn that there are good secrets, too.”


End file.
